Like The Rain
by Ladybug0327
Summary: A.U. Santana is a pop star on the verge of mega stardom. Quinn was once an A list actress who's star has fallen. The pair are casted to do a movie together. Santana is in it to propel her career to the next level, while this might be Quinn's last shot to revive her career. Will the two of them make movie magic together? What will they learn about themselves along the way?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is my first attempt at a Quinntana fic. I've been playing around with idea of this story for about a month now and I'm actually a little anxious to put it out there. Tell me what you guys think and if I should continue or if I should scrap it and try something else. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**_

_**...**_

_Falling in love is like the rain. It's unpredictable, but there are always signs before it completely falls._

_..._

"_Quinn you really don't have many options at this point_," Danny Rosenthal says.

He had been Quinn's agent from the very beginning of her career. He had guided her through the sudden rush of fame as her star rose. He had promised to stand by her through the highs and lows. Right now was one of those lows.

"_Danny you couldn't find someone better for me to do a movie with? I mean Santana Lopez, really?_"

"_She's hot right now. She has two singles in the top forty._"

"_Have you listened to her singles? They are pure raunch. One of them is about thongs. It's actually called 'Thong Song'. The other one is so vulgar that I don't think it gets played on the radio."_

"_Well that song about thongs has been number one on the charts for the last fourteen weeks_."

"_I hear she has a sex tape," _Quinn adds.

"_Allegedly. Besides that only adds to her allure."_

Quinn could feel a headache coming on. She silently mused if she had refilled her prescription migraine pills. She was definitely going to need one.

"_Come on Quinn. What better way to resurrect your career than to star in a movie with the hottest thing going? You're not getting any younger."_

"_Gee thanks for that."_

"_You know that's not how I meant it. All I'm saying is that you only have a few good years left before you're relegated to playing the mom or the aunt. You need to capitalize on it while you can," _Danny reasoned.

Quinn let out a sigh because she knew he was right. She would be thirty in three months. In her profession that was considered ancient.

"_Let me think about it Danny and I'll get back to you."_

Her line beeped indicating that she had an incoming call. She looked and saw that it was her mother.

"_Don't dawdle too long on this Quinn. You can't afford to let some young up and coming starlet steal this part away. You need this,_" Danny made sure to emphasize the last part.

"_I know, I know. Hey I have a call coming in that I have to take._"

Quinn clicked over before her mother had the chance to hang up.

"_Hi mom,_" she answered.

"_Hey Quinnie. I was calling to check in with you. It's been a while."_

"_I know mom. I've been busy. I've been working on a new project,"_ Quinn lied.

"_Glad to hear you're working honey. I told you things would turn around._"

Quinn squirmed a little in her seat. She hated being untruthful to her mom, but she didn't want to give her any more cause to worry.

"_How are you feeling_?" Quinn asked.

"_Some days are better than others. Chemo days are always tough. I miss you Quinnie._"

"_I know mom. I miss you too."_

_"Your father asked about you the other day," _her mother says.

Quinn makes a few disagreeable noises, finding it hard to believe that her father is at all concerned about her well being.

_"Don't be like that honey. You know that he loves you," _her mother chides.

_"Yeah well he has a funny way of showing it," _Quinn mumbles.

_"I know it's hard, but please don't shut him out. Life is too short not to tell the people we love what they mean to us while they're still here."_

Quinn swallows the small inkling of remorse creeping up. With her mother's condition, she knows she should be more grateful for the place her life is in.

_"I don't want to talk about dad anymore. I'll be by to see you soon okay. Do you need anything? Do you need me to send you more money?_"

"_I'm fine darling. All I need is to see my little girl. Don't work so hard that you forget what you're working for._"

"_I won't mom and I love you._"

"_I love you too._"

...

Quinn was the youngest of two children born to Russell and Judy Fabray. They grew up in upstate New York. Russell was quite well off and Quinn and her older brother,Russell Jr., lived a life of privilege because of it. They went to the best private schools money could buy. Were always apart of the right clubs. As was expected of them, they attended Ivy League schools. Quinn attended Yale while Russell Jr. decided on Wharton. He forayed his college education into a successful investment banking career. He was married to his perfect wife and they lived in their perfect house with their two point five perfect kids. Russell Sr. could never understand why Quinn couldn't be as successful, personally and professionally, as her brother was. The plan for her was to do much of the same. Find a nice man to marry and produce the requisite grandchildren. Never the one to do what was expected of her, she decided to cut her own path and studied drama. It boggled her father's mind how someone as smart and driven as Quinn would squander her talents away in the arts. His thoughts were that the movie business was deplorable. Quinn had to agree that her father's assessment was right seventy-five percent of the time. It was that twenty five percent that made this business worthwhile.

After her phone call with her mother, Quinn was feeling a bit morose. She tried to find something in her penthouse to keep her idle mind busy, but it seemed there was nothing of interest to keep her entertained. That's how she found herself curled up in her favorite chair staring out at the New York skyline. She had long given up trying to read the book that lie open across her lap. No matter how she might try, her mind kept wondering back to all the stresses she had in her life. Danny was right when he said she needed this part. She hadn't made anything of substance in the last two and a half years. In Hollywood that's almost a death sentence for an actress's career. In a society that had the attention span of a fly, it was pertinent to always be visible and relevant. She did a few straight to video movies to keep her afloat, but that money was drying up quickly. Ever since her mother was diagnosed with Stage Three Breast Cancer, Quinn had been putting in every dime she had for her treatment. If what Danny said about Santana Lopez was true, then starring in a movie with her would definitely put her career back on the fast track. She sighed, tired of thinking about the depressing state known as her life. The weather wasn't helping much either. It had been snowing off and on for the last week. When it wasn't snowing the temperature had been absolutely frigid. She needed a suitable distraction stat. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts. When she came across the name she was looking for, she hit send and waited for the call to go through.

"_Rachel Berry's phone,_" Quinn heard after the call connected.

"_Rachel why do you insist on answering your phone like that?_"

"_Because I'd like the caller to be informed who they are speaking to,_" she replies.

"_I'm pretty sure that if some one is calling your private line then they know who they are calling,_" Quinn reasons.

"_Very true. So Miss Fabray, what do I owe the pleasure of this call to?"_

"_Can't I just be calling to check on one of my nearest and dearest friends?_"

"_No. So spill it Fabray, what do you want?_"

"_I'm bored Rachel. Come keep me company. Please_?" Quinn begs.

"_I'd love too but I'm working on my new show. It opens next week and I need it to be perfect,"_ Rachel explains.

"_Ughhhhh. Fine. I suppose that's a good enough reason for you not to come running."_

"_Why don't you call David_?"

_"I really wasn't in the mood for that type of company, but I guess he'll have to do."_

_"Sorry I couldn't be of more help, but I promise we'll get together as soon as I get this show off the ground_."

Rachel and Quinn stay on the line a little longer, firming up plans to get together before they end the call. Quinn, not wanting to spend another moment alone with her thoughts, finally gives in and calls David. She taps her fingertips on the arm of her chair anxiously, not sure if he's going to answer. Just when Quinn was sure the call was going to go to voicemail, David picks up the phone.

"_Hey you_," he whispers in the phone.

"_Hey yourself. So I was thinking that it's awfully cold outside and I have the perfect idea for us to keep warm,_" she propositions.

"_Q I'd love to see you, you know I would. It's just that Sheila is extra needy tonight and I can't seem to get away,_" he explains.

Sheila is David's wife of fifteen years. Quinn met David while she was an undergrad at Yale. He was the new head of the Drama department. Quinn thought that he was everything she wanted in a man. Smart, sophisticated, cultured, handsome and available. At least she thought he was available. Once he found out she was interested, he actively pursued her. Dinners, flowers, late nights discussing philosophy and the meaning of life. It wasn't until after the first time they slept together that she found out he was married. When she asked why he didn't wear his ring, he told her that he was separated from his wife and that they were going to get divorced. That was ten years ago. Quinn often told herself that she deserved better and should walk away. When she would get up the nerve to tell David as much, he would always seem to convince her that nobody wanted her but him. So she stayed and endure being someone's second choice.

"_I was just trying to see you before I left town_."

"_Where are you going?_" David asks.

"_To L.A. for a few months. I got a part in a new movie."_

"_Give me a few hours. I can probably come over after she goes to sleep."_

"_Please don't do me any favors_," Quinn spits out.

"_Look Q you knew what this was when it all began. I can't come run just because you're horny_."

"_You know what David, go to hell!"_ Quinn shouts into the phone.

She abruptly ends the call and angrily tosses her cell onto the adjacent sofa. She makes her way to her wet bar seeking something strong to calm her nerves. She pours three fingers worth of cognac into a snifter and knocks it back. The burning sensation the alcohol produces on its way down has the desired affect. She pours a little more in the glass and goes in search of her meds. Just a little something to take the edge off and help her sleep.

...

"_Oh my fucking God Santana_!" the young woman moans.

Santana is trying for the life of her to remember the name of the woman who is currently screaming her name in ecstasy. She's naked and squirming underneath her. The least Santana could do was call her by the right name. Was it Stephanie? Or Sarah? Maybe Samantha? She was pretty sure it was Samantha.

"_Samantha baby does that feel good to you?"_

"_Yes! Fuck yes!_"

Pleased that she got the girl's name right, she focuses back on the task at hand. She could tell that Samantha was getting close. Santana threw her leg over her shoulder to get a better angle.

"_Oh baby right there. Please don't stop_!" Samantha calls out.

She's panting and groaning in Santana's ear and it is seriously throwing off her concentration. She searches for something to put in her mouth to silence her. She spies the girl's red thong hanging precariously from the leg that was on her shoulder. She grabs it and stuffs it in Samantha's mouth. With a little less noise, Santana is able to bring the session to a quick conclusion. She leaves Samantha basking in the afterglow while she goes to take a shower. She turns on her iPod, which is in its dock, and quickly discards her bra and panties. She steps under the shower head and lets the soothing flow of water wash over her. She smiles as the next song starts on her playlist. There couldn't be a more appropriate theme song for the moment. She sings along to the chorus as she soaps up her body.

"_Loving me baby, that's a no no. I'm better when I touch and go. I'm trying to add your name to my hall of fame. I'm not just a player, I'm a pro lover._"

She continues to hum along while she plans out her day. Maybe she would head to the studio today. She has a song rolling around in her head, itching to get free. She finishes up her shower and leaves the ensuite to get dressed for the day.

"_Are you going to let me have my turn now?_" Samantha asks from underneath the sheets.

Santana stops drying her hair, bewildered that her plaything hadn't left yet.

"_Why are you still here_?" Santana asks.

"_You just gave me several mind numbing orgasms and I wanted to return the favor,_" she explains.

"_Look sweetheart, I don't know what you thought this was, but this ain't that. We had fun and now it's time to go._"

"_Seriously_?" Samantha asks incredulously.

"_Seriously_," Santana responds.

Santana stands with her arms folded across her chest. She closes her eyes and silently counts to ten hoping that she won't have to go all Lima Heights Adjacent on this chick. She usual has a strict rule about bringing her one night stands home. Last night she was lonely and bored and Samantha was looking delicious in her tight red dress. When the young woman popped up at the after party, clearly just to see Santana, it was hard to say no. She let her desires get the best of her and she's beginning to regret that decision.

"_The rumors are true about you Santana Lopez. You're a real bitch_," Samantha says furiously.

"_Sweetheart I've been called worst things by better people_," Santana chuckles.

"_Kiss my ass_," Samantha retorts.

"_Maybe next time. Don't let the doorknob hit you on the way out_," Santana smiles.

She continues to get dressed while Samantha angrily gathers her things and leaves. She's in the middle of applying her makeup when her phone rings.

"_Talk to me Puckerman_," she says by way of greeting.

Noah Puckerman is Santana's agent and long time friend. They grew up in Lima, Ohio together and moved to L.A. to chase their dreams. Noah is one of the few people in Santana's life that she trusts wholly. He never agrees with her just to pacify her ego and holds no qualms about telling it like it is. Noah always has her best interest at heart. He's a big part of the reason she is as successful as she is today. She puts him on speaker while he continues to get ready.

"_Update on your movie. Looks like we might have snagged Quinn Fabray,_" he says proudly.

"_Quinn Fabray. So you guys just went out and found the whitest white girl you could get huh?_" she says incredulously.

"_You needed some one with some credibility._"

"_Credibility? Has she done anything worthwhile lately_?" Santana asks.

Santana makes her way to the kitchen for a caffeine pick me up. She has a long day ahead of her and is functioning on no sleep.

"_No, but that's exactly why she's perfect. She's talented and respected enough that people will take this movie seriously, but not such a big star that she will eclipse you,"_ Noah explains.

"_I won't have anything in common with Miss W.A.S.P. There's no way anyone is going to believe we're buddies. We need chemistry for this thing to work. I don't like it Noah. My answer is no. Find somebody else._"

"_There is nobody else. Nobody worth having wants to touch anything you're in with a ten foot pole._"

"_Why the hell not? I'm smoldering right now. Every male and female between the ages of thirteen and thirty five either wants to be me or do me. Who wouldn't want to be in a movie with me?"_ she says, clearly insulted.

"_Sorry to say it babe, but you're a little lewd._"

"_Lewd sells albums. Lewd gets endorsement deals. Lewd has made you and I very rich_," she states.

"_This is all true but if you're really sincere about changing your public image, than this is the first step."_

_"isn't she old?" Santana asks._

_"She's not old, she's seasoned. You're not too far off from her age either while you're getting all judgy," _Noah says.

"_I still don't like it,_" Santana pouts.

"_Well I suggest that you dig deep and find a way to like it. Oh and figure out a way to get Quinn to sign on. She's our last hope. If she doesn't do it, there will be no movie."_

...

"_Exactly what would this movie be about?"_ Quinn asks Danny.

After a few days of quiet contemplation, she decided to go ahead and shoot the movie. She figured what did she have to lose. Well besides her dignity, her reputation and her self respect.

"_It's a buddy movie slash chick flick. You know a few jokes, a few tears. Everyone lives happily ever after at the end. It should be a cake walk,_" Danny explains.

"_I'm not doing any nudity Danny. No full frontal. No topless. Nothing,_" Quinn demands.

"_It's a buddy movie Quinn. Why would you think you'd be getting naked_?" Danny asks.

"_Because Santana Lopez is involved. From the pictures I've seen, I don't think she owns any clothing that's bigger than a bra and a G string_."

Danny just chuckles at Quinn's opinion of her future co-star's fashion choices.

"_How long would I be shooting?_" Quinn asks.

"_Two, three months tops. The producers would be putting you up at The Chateau. All expenses paid of course._"

The thought of staying at a The Chateau Marmont definitely sweetened the deal. It had been awhile since she stayed there. She closed her eyes and could already feel the amazingly comfortable bed should would be sleeping in. Not that her own bed wasn't comfortable, but sleeping in it by herself in her own home just always reminded her of how lonely she was. At least in a different location that wasn't something she was prone to think about. She could most certainly use the change of scenery. She glances back out at the dreary afternoon sky. It was starting to snow again. Quinn checks the weather app on her phone and calculates that there is a forty degree difference in temperature between New York and L.A. She made up her mind. She had enough of this winter time blues and all of the bullshit that seemed to be coming along with it.

"_Send me over the script to read through and the contract so my lawyer can take a look at it. If everything looks good, I'll sign it and get it back to you by the end of the week."_

"_You won't regret this Fabray,_" Danny says excitedly.

"_I highly doubt that, but at this point what other choice do I have,_" she states matter of factly.

They firm up a couple more details before they hang up. Quinn starts to make a mental checklist of things she'll need to get done to be ready for her trip. People she'll need to inform of her whereabouts. Sadly the people part of her list isn't nearly as long as she would like it to be. She pushes down the growning feeling of melancholy and continues with her planning.

"_Well here's goes nothing."_

...

Quinn is greeted by the early morning sun and the incessant buzzing of her intercom. She rolls out of bed and goes to the unit on the wall to see who in God's name would wake her up this early.

"_What_?" she barks into the speaker.

"_Miss Fabray I have a delivery for you here at the door. Should I sign for it?"_

"_Sure Johnny. Send it up to the penthouse."_

Quinn goes about finding a robe and making herself half way presentable to greet the delivery man. She ambles towards the door, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. When she opens the door, she isn't nearly ready for what she sees.

"_Where would you like us to put everything ma'am?_" the gentleman asks.

Quinn is at a lost of exactly how much stuff there is being delivered. She motions for them to place everything in the formal living room. The delivery men, yes men as in more than one, make quick work of placing the things. Quinn signs and closes the door behind her. She makes her way back to her living room, astonished at the sight before her. There ware five bouquets of lilies, a fruit basket, a champagne basket, chocolates from some ridiculously expensive shop, a basket with an assortment of lotions and bubble baths. Quinn goes looking for a card to see who sent all of this.

"_David has apologized before, but never in such a grand way. He must really be feeling remorseful,_" she says to herself.

She finally finds a card tucked away in one of the bouquets. The envelope is blank so she fishes out the card inside.

_Miss Fabray, it is my esteemed pleasure to be working with you on this movie. I hope you accept my token of gratitude. Here's to making movie magic._

_ Santana_

Quinn bites her lip and looks pensively at the card again. Maybe she misjudged Santana Lopez. This movie might turn out not to be so painful after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this one to you guys. I just recovered from my emotional hangover from watching the Brittana wedding. I was so high on my feels after watching that episode that it took a few days for me to come down. Anywho, your response to the first chapter was PHENOMENAL! After reading them, I didn't have any choice but to continue. So read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

**...**

"_Ladies and gentlemen if you could please return your trays and seat backs to the upright positions. We're now preparing for our decent into Los Angeles, where the weather is a balmy fifty one degrees._"

Quinn tunes out the pilot going through his spiel as she glares out of her window. No matter how many times she had seen it before, she always marveled at the mecca that was Los Angeles when viewed from above. She swallows the last sip of champagne that is in her glass before the flight attendant could come around to collect it. The nonstop flight from La Guardia to LAX had been uneventful. The early more voyage left the plane relatively uncrowded. Even more so in first class. Quinn was able to relax and was asked to sign an autograph only a couple of times. Quinn looks arounds at her traveling accommodations thus far. It had been awhile since she had been able to enjoy the perks that her celebrity could bring. She made up in her mind before the ink was even dry on her contract that she was going to relish every moment.

Quinn hums along to the tune playing forth from her earbuds. Her travel playlist is going strong and she lets it carry her all the way from the jetway, to baggage claim, to the car and driver that are patiently awaiting her arrival. She spies the gentleman in an extremely crisp suit and sunglasses. Quinn approaches the town car and the gentleman promptly opens the door.

"_Good morning Miss Fabray. I'm Jeffery. I'll be your personal driver for the duration of your stay. Anywhere you need to go, I'll be more than happy to take you there._"

"_Thank you Jeffery_," Quinn says.

Jeffrey takes her hand and helps her into the car before closing the door behind her. Once her luggage is secured in the trunk, they set off on the journey from LAX to The Chateau. Quinn sits as close to the window as possible and enjoys the passing scenery. The early morning sun is filtering in through the tinted windows and Quinn can already feel her spirits starting to lift. She places her earbuds back in and leans her head against the seat. She happily sings along to the music, grateful that Jeffery seems to be the consummate professional. No matter how bad her singing may sound, he doesn't say a word.

After what seems like a lifetime in the car, the pair final arrive at The Chateau Marmont. Jeffery pulls up outside the private hillside bungalow that will be her home for the next few months. Quinn practically has her face pressed to the window and she can't fight the smile that plays across her lips. The hotel is as beautiful as she remembers it. She has always appreciated the old Hollywood charm of The Chateau. She could imagine the likes of Greta Garbo, Ingrid Bergman and Grace Kelly staying here. All the greats that inspired her to be a thespian in the first place. It doesn't seem as if the car has even made a complete stop, before Jeffery is at her door. He helps her out and goes to retrieve her luggage as Quinn heads into the bungalow. She opens the door and sighs in pleasure at the sight before her. The sitting room/ living area is wide open. The blinds from the patio are drawn back and natural sunlight is pouring into the room. Quinn ventures deeper into the residence and sees the kitchen and dining room off to the side. She smiles at the French press she spies on the counter and can't wait to use it in the morning. She final makes her way to her intended destination, the bedroom. There are two in this particular bungalow and Quinn can't decide which one she wants. While she's going back and forth between the two, she muses about seeing if her mom might want to come visit since she has the extra space. If she's well enough to travel, Quinn knows that the L.A. sun would be good for her. It's already working wonders for her mood.

She decides on a room and changes out of her clothes. She heads to the bathroom to wash the nearly six hour flight off of her. Quinn, never being one to waste a good clawfoot tub, runs a steaming hot bath. She sinks low into the water and sighs for what feels like the umpteenth time today. After being in the tub long enough to be certified a prune, she gets out and dresses, selecting something comfortable to lounge in. She had already decided that today was going to be a day of leisure. Her life was going to be a whirlwind of nonstop productivity soon enough. After throwing on her favorite pair of sunglasses, she grabs her script, a Perrier and heads outside. She finds a suitable lounge chair to relax in and basks in the warmth of the early afternoon weather for a moment. Quinn soon dives into her script once again. She's memorizing lines and making notes for things she has questions about. After a few hours, her body succumbs to jet lag and she dozes off into a nap. The grumbles of her stomach are what wake her up from her peaceful siesta. She stretches and checks her watch. It's early evening and Quinn realizes that she hasn't really eaten anything all day. She rummages around the kitchen for some sustenance and comes up empty handed. All she seems to find is more water and wine. She makes a call to have some dinner delivered, while she eyes the bottle of wine dubiously. She has an inner debate on whether she wants a glass and decides against it. She wants to go over her script a little more before bed. She would prefer a clear head while she's doing so. Quinn has an overwhelming desire to be extremely prepared come Monday morning. She wants to impress everyone so completely that there will be no doubt that she is the right choice for this part.

She fiddles with her phone and tries to find some decent music to play while she dines. If she was going to be eating alone, at least Pandora could keep her company. She is in the middle of debating whether she is in a Sade or Amy Winehouse kind of mood when a text pops up on her screen. She frowns when she sees that it's from David.

_**I'm sorry. You know I love you and I miss you dearly.**_

Quinn lets out an sardonic laugh. She checks the time. It's a little after eight o'clock, east coast time. She imagines that David is in his study, probably grading papers, after just having dinner with his wife. Quinn repeats the words 'his wife' one more time and feels her ire of earlier in the week starting to return. She just can't decide who she's more upset with. David or herself. Maybe some wine with dinner isn't such a bad idea after all.

...

_Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Breathe out. One. Two. Three._

Santana is effortlessly going through the moves of her sun salutations. She begins every day the same way, exercising her body while relaxing her mind. She discovered yoga a few years ago and has been devoted to not only learning, but mastering the craft itself. She found that practicing yoga was good for her inner psyche. She has always been a bit of a firecracker and being apart of the business she was in did nothing to help that part of her personality. Her early morning yoga sessions always seemed to get her mind in the right kind of head space to handle whatever the day might throw at her. Whenever the weather permitted, she usually did her yoga outside. She would pick a spot where she could see the rising sun peeking over the trees in the backyard of her sprawling seven acre home. She always liked to start the day with this view as a reminder of how far she had come.

Santana Lopez was the only child born to Rodolfo and Maribel Lopez. She grew up in the small town of Lima, Ohio. Her parents were the children of first generation immigrants. They worked hard to provide a life for their only child that they didn't have the privilege themselves to have. She might not have had the best of everything, but she always had what she needed. As a result of the many hours her parents spent earning a living, Santana was with her grandmother a great deal of the time. The two formed a special bond that Alma Lopez didn't share with any of her other grandchildren. Her grandmother wasn't the gentlest or warmest of women, but what she lacked in affection, she made up for in the way she cared for her grandchildren. Santana learned to be bold and fearless from her abuela. She learned that because she was not only a woman, but a Latina woman, that she would have to be three times as better as her counterparts to make it in this world. She taught her not to be afraid of rejection or the word no. Santana learned not to back down from her dreams just because someone else told her that she couldn't do it. It was because of the drive that her abuela instilled in her that Santana went to Stanford University on a full academic scholarship. She graduated cum laude and was in the top ten percent of her class. She got her degree in business, but had other aspirations. She had caught the music bug early in life. She performed at her first talent show when she was eight. She won first place and had been chasing the limelight ever since. Her chasing caused her to stay in California after she graduated and pursue her dreams. She worked about every odd job by day, while doing little gigs here and there at night. It was a chance meeting that landed her singing backup for the then up and coming Mercedes Jones. While on tour, Mercedes heard Santana sing a song during sound check one day. She thought it was beautiful and had inquired who it was by. When Santana told Mercedes that she had written the song, the woman became a staunch Santana fan and supporter. She pushed to get Santana her own record deal and the rest was history.

Santana finishes with her morning workout and rolls up her mat. Today is the first day of production on her movie. Okay, so technically it is the producers movie, but she feels very much that this movie is hers as well. The script came across her path a few years ago from an associate. She read it and loved it and couldn't wait to get it made. The script was about a quirky writer who is doing research on her latest book, a murder mystery. She talks a tough as nails cop into letting her shadow her for a few weeks. The two find themselves embroiled in a real life murder mystery and hilarity ensues. The whole time she read the screenplay, the movie was already playing out in her mind. She would play the cop, of course, and she already had a shortlist of actresses who would be great for the writer. She hustled like crazy to find the funding to get this movie green lit. So even though none of her own money is involved, this movie is every bit hers as much as it is anyone else's.

She wasn't due to be at the studio for another four hours, but the nervous energy coursing through her had her up and ready to go. While she may have been a powerhouse when performing on stage, acting was a whole different arena. Sure she did her fair share of guest appearances on television shows here and there, but being expected to pretty much carry a feature film had her a bit anxious. Not only that, she had a lot riding on this movie. She knew what her public image was. From the very beginning, she knew that no matter how talented she was, her success would be equal proportional to her sex appeal. So she created the persona of a badass vixen and played the part. Often she was scantily clad for music videos or photo shoots. Quick to flip the paparazzi the bird or spout off a vulgar rant when they were hounding her. Let's not forget numerous photos of her partying to the small hours of the morning, usually with a champagne bottle in both hands. Then there were the rumors of her leaving said club with one, or more, women. Santana was an infamous womanizer. Once the media caught word of her sexuality, her popularity skyrocketed. Being a lesbian was the current "in" thing and she played that to her advantage as well. She would make it a point to always have a beautiful woman on her arm when she showed up at an event. Usual a model or some up and coming actress trying to advance her career by being associated with Santana Lopez.

After three years of running the rat race, the whole thing was starting to wear on Santana. It wasn't who she really was and she was getting tired of playing the game. She wanted to start making music on her own terms and knew that in order to do that, she was going to have to change the public's perception of her. This movie was the first part of that transformation.

Santana showers and goes to her walk in closet to pick an outfit for the day. They were only going to be doing a table read today, but she wanted to be taken seriously from the very start. She flips through her clothing to find the perfect outfit that stated she was the absolute model of professional and is here to work. Once she finds what she is looking for, she puts on the minimal amount of jewelry and applies a subtle hint of makeup. She hops in her cherry red Bentley Azure convertible and makes her way to the city. It's a beautiful day and she lets the top down. The breeze off of the ocean blows threw her hair as she speeds down the Pacific Coast Highway. Her apprehension is slowly starting to abate and she has the feeling that today has the makings of being an awesome one.

...

Jeffery pulls to a stop at the security gate of Paramount Studios. Quinn rolls down her window and presents the guard with her i.d. He checks his clipboard to make sure that she has permission to be on the lot.

"_Sorry for the fifth degree Miss Fabray. We just have to be thorough with everyone no matter who you are,_" the young man apologizes.

"_It's not a problem. Rather be safe than sorry,_" Quinn replies.

He hands her a temporary pass to use and directs her driver to where they'll be shooting. She catches glimpses of some of the other projects that are currently shooting as they pass by. She's pleasantly surprised to see that the movie has quite a few sound stages reserved for use. It's becoming more apparent to her that this movie is a bigger deal than she initially thought. Jeffery stops at the building that production offices are located and opens Quinn's door for her.

"_What time should I be back to retrieve you, Miss Fabray_?" he asks.

"_I'm not sure when we'll be finished. How about I give you a call,_" she suggests.

"_Absolutely. Have a wonderful first day," _he says.

"_Thank you_," Quinn smiles.

She makes her way to a young woman sitting behind a desk and removes her sunglasses. After finding out where she needs to be, she heads to what will be her first day of work in six months. She feels like a kid on the first day of school. She reaches the door handle and pauses. Quinn expels a deep breath, letting go of her last bit of trepidation. With her game face firmly back in place, she opens the door and walks in. She is greeted with a chorus of hellos and welcomes. She puts on her most dazzling smile and makes it a point to greet everyone individual. When she gets to her spot at the front of the room, she is brought face to face with the one and only Santana Lopez. For the most part, Santana is what Quinn expects her to be. She's seen enough pictures of her. What she wasn't expecting was how alluring the woman was in person. Her skin is the color of salted caramel. It looks smooth and is without a blemish. Her silky raven locks are pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes are dark and intense. Her lips are full and look delectably kissable. Santana stands and presents her hand for Quinn to shake. Quinn takes her hand and instantly feels an electric current pass through her. She shakes her head a little to get her bearings. She makes eye contact with Santana and sees a wry smirk on her face.

"_Quinn Fabray. I must say, the pictures I've seen of you do not do you justice. You're so much more beautiful in the flesh,_" Santana says.

"_And I must say that you're decidedly more clothed than the pictures I've seen of you_," Quinn says with a smile.

Santana chuckles, not put off in the least.

"_What can I say. Sex sells. And my sex is amazing_," Santana answers.

Quinn feels her stomach do a roll at the deliver of Santana's last line. She can feel her heart rate increase. She looks down and notices that she and Santana are still holding hands. Quinn quickly lets go and nervously clears her throat. Santana snickers, clearly very much aware of the affect she is having on Quinn. The entire room is quiet, watching the sparks fly between the two women. The director, Arthur Abrams, coughs exaggeratedly a few times to get their attention.

"_Now that everyone is acquainted with one another, shall we get started?_" he says.

The remainder of the day is spent going through the script, page by page. The energy in the room is good and Quinn is liking the direction that this production is taking. They finish for the day and everyone is given their call times for the next day. Quinn is waiting outside of the office building for Jeffery when a black Cadillac Escalade pulls up in front. The sound of what Quinn images is a million subwoofers vibrates the windows. She shakes her head in disgust. Quinn could never understand why anyone felt the need to play their music so damn loud. She tries to catch a look at the occupants of the vehicle, but the windows are tinted pitch black. She checks her phone again and silently pleads for Jeffery to hurry up. Santana comes flouncing by and opens the door of the obnoxious vehicle in question.

"_You have a lovely evening Miss Fabray,_" she says.

Santana tosses Quinn a wink a slides in the backseat. The car speeds off taking the cacophony with it. Now that is exactly how she pictured Santana Lopez to be. Quinn swallows the small bit of arousal that's creeping up and grits her teeth.

"_What the hell is going on with me?_"

...

Something that started off with so much promise, was quickly starting to turn into the movie from hell. Quinn is struggling with her character and how she is developing. Not to mention trying to play off of Santana. Quinn was willing to admit that she had some raw talent, but it was abundantly clear that she was an amateur. Then there was the tension between Artie and Santana. It was obvious the two had a past and that it wasn't a pleasant one. Santana's agent had to intervene in a couple of blow ups between the two of them.

"_Cut, cut, cut!_" Artie shouts for what feels like the thirtieth time that day.

"_What the hell Artie? I nailed that line. Why'd you stop this time_" Santana asks.

Quinn and Santana had been running through the same scene for the last hour. Each time they did it, Artie would stop them, critiquing this or that.

"_It's not just what you're saying but it's how you're saying it. How can I put this gently? You sound like a lifeless robot,_" Artie says.

"_Fuck you Abrams!_" Santana spits back.

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa,_" Noah interjects.

He stands from his place off screen and goes to stand between Artie and Santana. Quinn rolls her eyes and massages her temples. She is growing weary of Santana's outburst and can feel a headache coming on.

"_How about you give Santana something constructive that she can use Artie_," Noah says, trying to ease the discord between the two.

"_It's not just her, it's everything. I'm having trouble believing these characters. These two have zero chemistry and it's distracting_," Artie explains.

"_See I told you,_" Santana mumbles.

"_Excuse me, what was that?_" Quinn asks.

"_I said that I knew you weren't right for this. The character is supposed to be funny and quirky. There's no way your uptight ass has a sense of humor,_" Santana says more loudly.

"_You know what, I didn't sign up for the bullshit,_" Quinn answers. She storms off set.

"_We should've gotten Emma Stone,_" Santana grumbles.

"_Santana I need to talk to you over here now_," Noah demands.

Once they're out of ear shot, Noah speaks.

"_What the hell are you doing_?" he asks.

Santana shrugs her shoulders like she doesn't know what he's talking about.

"_I'm not playing with you Santana. Do you want to get this movie made or not?_"

"_Of course I want to get it made,_" she answers.

"_Then I suggest you get your head out of your ass and go make nice with Quinn._"

"_Umm negative. Santana Lopez kisses no one's ass. Especially not some princess who thinks she's better than she really is."_

"_Ok fine. Fine! Since you have it all figured out, then you fix it_!" Noah shouts.

He, too, storms off in the direction that Quinn headed. Santana stews for a few moments, not wanting to do what she knows she has to.

"_Shit_."

...

Quinn is in her trailer, pacing back and forth. She knew Santana was an ass, but she had no idea just how big of one she really was. They had been shooting the movie for two weeks now. It seemed like the longer she spent in the Latina's presence, the more insufferable she became. Santana was definitely living up to her reputation of being a diva. She was prone to throw a tantrum or two and some of her requests were outlandish. Quinn was going over in her mind how she could get out of her contact. They had already paid her, but after that last outburst, there was no way she was spending another second with Santana Lopez. Maybe if she gave the money back, they would cut her free. Her plotting and scheming is interrupted by the the sound of a knock on her door.

"_Oh what now_?" she groans.

The interloper knocks again, a lot harder this time, when Quinn doesn't immediately answer. She snatches open the door to see the cause of her disdain standing on the other side.

"_Are you going to let me in or are you going to make me stand in this hot ass L.A. sun all day_?" Santana ask.

Quinn moves to slam the door in her face. Santana holds up her hands in surrender.

"_Look I'm sorry. Can I come in please_?" she asks.

Quinn goes against her better judgement and moves to let the woman in.

"_I came by to apologize. What I said was hurtful and out of line. I'm really appreciative that you're doing this movie and I'd like a chance to finish what we've started_."

Santana pauses to give Quinn a chance to speak. She looks at the pretty blonde's face and all she sees is irritation. Quinn is not giving an inch and is going to make her work for it.

"_Do you know why we chose you for this movie_?" Santana asks.

"_Because nobody else would do it and I was the only one desperate enough to_," Quinn answers snidely.

"_No we chose you because you're an amazing talent. Believe it or not Quinn, I've seen all of your movies. What you do when you're on camera is pure magic. I know I'm not the best actress. What I lack in talent, I make up for it with drive and desire. I would love to learn whatever it is you're willing to teach_," Santana says.

"_Well I do have a few ideas to improve both of our characters_," Quinn offers.

"_And I would love nothing more than to hear every last one of those ideas. How about we discuss them over dinner?_" Santana suggests.

"_I don't know_," Quinn says.

"_Come on, you gotta eat. Besides I think us spending some time together off set getting to know each other better will help our chemistry_," Santana says.

Quinn still looks skeptical, not sure that going anywhere alone with Santana is a good idea.

"_Please_," she begs.

Santana gives her the biggest puppy dog eyes and Quinn can feel her defenses starting to crumble. She chuckles in spite of herself.

"_Alright I'll go_," Quinn concedes.

"_Yes! I'll take care of everything. I know the perfect place to take you. How about I come to collect you around eight?_" she asks.

"_That's alright. I have a driver. Just let me know where we're going and I'll meet you there,_" Quinn says.

"_I invited you so I'll drive_," Santana counters.

She turns to leave as if the matter had been settled. Quinn sits open mouthed not believing that she lost the first, of what she imagines will be many, battle of wills with Santana Lopez. Tonight should be very interesting.

...

Santana lets out a long, low whistle as Quinn steps out of the bungalow. She is leaning against the limo that she arrived in to pick Quinn up for dinner. Santana is trying to be ladylike, but she can't help but peruse Quinn as she approaches her. She's wearing a form fitting, shimmery dress that stops just above her knees. It's a deep green and sets Quinn's eyes off perfectly. Her shoulder length hair is down and flowing across her sun kissed skin. Santana's eyes wander further down and her breath hitches at the barest hint of cleavage poking out from Quinn's dress. She swallows hard and reminds herself that she promised to be on her best behavior.

"_I'll take that as a compliment_," Quinn laughs.

"_You should because it is. For you_," Santana says handing Quinn the lone flower she is holding.

She opens the door for her and the two slide into the backseat.

"_Another lily,_" Quinn observes.

"_Someone once told me that lilies are the lesbians of flowers. So I like to give them to a beautiful woman every chance I get,_" Santana explains.

Quinn smiles at her reasons and smells the flower. The pair chat amicably on the way to the restaurant. They divulge information that anyone who knows how to use the Internet could find, but they don't go much deeper than that. They pull up to what Quinn recognizes as a Hollywood hotspot. There's a crowd of paparazzi outside with their cameras poised, just waiting for the next celebrity to make their appearance.

"_Circle around back_," Santana instructs the driver.

He does as he's told and they pull up to what looks like a service entrance.

"_I'll call when we're ready,_" Santana tells him and the two exit the car.

The back door to the restaurant instantly opens and the women are quickly ushered inside. An impeccably dressed man leads them through the kitchen to what appears to be a private room. There are a few tables in the room, but only one of them is set for an intimate dinner for two.

"_Everything is ready as you requested Miss Lopez and the first course shall be served soon._"

"_Thank you GianCarlo,_" Santana smiles.

She moves to pull Quinn's chair out and Quinn graciously accepts the gesture.

"_Allow me,_" Santana says as she opens Quinn's napkin with a flourish and places it across her lap. She takes her seat directly across from Quinn and gives her a gorgeous smile. Quinn can feel a blush start to rise up on her cheeks and she can't explain why. Thankfully a waiter knocks three times before entering the room, quickly providing a distraction.

"_For your inspection Miss Lopez._"

Santana eyes the bottle of wine being presented to her. She nods her approval and the waiter proceeds to uncork the bottle and pour a hint of wine into Santana's glass. She swishes the liquid around her glass before placing the glass underneath her nose. She inhales deeply and allows the bouquet to fill her nostrils. She completes the last step of her appraisal by taking the liquid into her mouth. Santana swirls it around for a few seconds, savoring the flavor, before she swallows. She again nods her approval and the waiter moves to fill both glasses. He makes a hasty exit, leaving the women in private. Santana takes another sip of her wine and moans her appreciation. When she finally looks across the table, she's met with an astonished look coming from Quinn.

"_What_?" Santana asks.

"_I have to say that I'm thoroughly impressed_," Quinn answers.

"_Why because I can pick wine_?" Santana asks incredulously.

"_Not that you can pick wine, but the manner of how you chose it. I never would have expected that from you,_" Quinn admits.

"_You shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Stick around Blondie. I'm full of surprises,_" Santana says.

...

Santana lives up to her word and is very much full of surprises. The meal she chose for them is amazing. As each course comes out, it easily surpasses the previous one in deliciousness. They had enjoyed a bottle of wine and are well on their way to emptying the second one. As the alcohol flowed, inhibitions start to fall by the wayside. Santana soon forgets her vow to be good and is openly flirting with Quinn. Quinn is eating every bit of it up and serving the flirtation back in equal measure. After a long pause between the two, the conversation takes a turn.

"_Can I ask you something_?" Santana says.

"_Sure_," Quinn answers.

"_What's you're problem with me?_"

"_Beg your pardon_?" Quinn asks.

"_Don't act like you don't despise the sight of me. I can practically see your nose in the air whenever I enter the room_."

Quinn can feel herself starting to get annoyed.

"_Please, I'm hardly that pompous_," she answers.

"_Ha! I can smell the pretension from over here_," Santana says.

"_You don't know the first thing about me Santana," Quinn says roughly._

"_Oh but I do. I spent the majority of my school years with girls just like you. Walking around with a sense of entitlement. Don't know the first thing about an honest day's work, because everything they have has been handed to them. Use anything and anyone to get with they want. You're the type of girl who probably screwed her professor to pass a class."_

Santana feels the gush of air before she actually feels the slap. A loud whack sounds in the room as Quinn's hand makes contact with her face. Quinn recoils a little, as stunned as Santana that she actually hit her. She waits in anticipation for what he fiery dinner companion is going to do next. Santana is stunned for but a moment by the blonde's actions. She looks at Quinn if to say 'bitch did you just hit me?'. When she final computes that she did indeed just hit her, she moves to do the only logical thing in this circumstance. Santana opens her had a slaps Quinn back. Quinn holds her cheek in shock. She doesn't know whether she should be outraged or if Santana's reaction is justified. They just stare at each other as the intensity builds. The are no words spoken. The sounds of their ragged breaths are the only noise to fill the room. The stand in silent stalemate, each challenging the other to make the next move. The undercurrent that had been flowing between them was gaining power and threatening to burst out at any moment. Quinn licks her lip to moist them and it snaps the last thread of Santana's willpower. She lunges forward and grabs Quinn's face. Their lips crash together in a heavenly union. Santana is delirious from all the sensations bombarding her. Quinn's lips are incredibly soft. She kisses Santana like a woman who knows exactly what she's doing. Santana can still taste a hint of the evening's wine on Quinn's lips. She desires to taste more and plunges her tongue into Quinn's mouth. Quinn moans at the action and Santana takes that as encouragement do to what she really wants to do. With her lips still firmly attached to Quinn's, she guides the two of them to one of the empty tables.

"_Get on the table,_" she orders her.

Quinn eagerly complies. She hops up on the edge of the table and waits. But Santana can't wait. From the very first time she laid eyes on Quinn, she knew she had to have her. She attacks Quinn's lips once again while her hand finds the zip on the back of her dress. Once the zipper is halfway down, Santana yanks on the dress exposing Quinn to her. Quinn throws her head back and hisses as Santana lavishes attention on her bare breast. Santana spends what feels like an eternity sucking, kissing and touching them. She runs her hands along the soft thighs in front of her and pushes Quinn's dress up higher. Too eager to waist a second of this interact, she forgoes removing Quinn's underwear and sinks her hand into Quinn's folds. Santana groans at how ready she is for her. She immediately thrust two fingers into her innermost self. Quinn lets out a strangled groan when Santana starts to move in and out of her. Quinn is breathing heavy and moaning her delight in Santana's ear. Santana feels like she might actually get off from the beautiful noise come from the woman wrapped around her. She feels the first signs of Quinn's orgasm and increases her pace. Santana reattaches her lips to Quinn's as she climaxes gloriously all over her fingers. Santana doesn't stop until she feels the last pulsation and Quinn collapses on the table. She removes her fingers and proceeds to lick them clean. She moans at the taste of Quinn and instantly wants more. Santana sits in a chair that is in front of the table. She reaches under Quinn's dress and removes her underwear. She grabs a hold of Quinn's legs, placing them gracefully over her shoulders.

"_Santana there's no way I can come again_," Quinn says, still breathless.

"_You can and you will. Now shut up and let me work_," Santana commands.

She punctuates her statement with a feather like kiss on Quinn's thigh. Santana kiss her way higher and her until she face to face with Quinn's glistening center. She inhales deeply, try to commit to memory the scent of Quinn Fabray. She makes a tentative swipe with her tongue. Quinn's hips buck at the contact. She decides right then that the taste of Quinn is so much better straight from the source. Santana repeats the action again, eliciting the same reaction from her. She makes another pass through, this time swirling her tongue around Quinn's opening.

"_Dammit Santana! Stop teasing me!_" Quinn demands.

Santana snickers into her. She firmly grabs Quinn around the thighs and opens her a little wider. She places an open mouthed kiss on Quinn's clit before she sucks it into her mouth. Quinn hisses and grabs Santana by the head. She almost forgets to breath as Santana licks and sucks her into oblivion. She cums crying out loudly.

"_Santana you have to stop. I can't take anymore,_" Quinn says.

Santana takes one last lick before she relinquishes her assault on Quinn's body. Quinn takes a few seconds to catch her breath before she moves to sit up. Everything underneath her is soaked and it's starting to get uncomfortable.

"_Don't move,_" Santana instructs.

Santana stands from her position in front of Quinn. She grabs a discarded cloth napkin from one of the tables and wipes her mouth and chin. She then grabs her glass of wine and takes a long drink, admiring her handy work. Quinn Fabray is lying on a table, a quivering mess and she's the one who did that to her. She can't help the smug sense of satisfaction that washes over her. After another sip, she proceeds to wipe Quinn up as best she can.

"_Can you stand_?" Santana asks.

Quinn nods in the affirmative and moves to get off of the table. Her legs are a little wobbly at first and Santana gives her a cocky grin. Quinn straightens herself out and turns to see the mess she made. She notices the wet spot on the table cloth where Santana made her climax. Twice.

"_I feel bad for whoever has to clean this up_." Quinn says.

"_Why? That's what I pay good money for a private room for,_" Santana says.

"_So you fuck a lot of women on restaurant tables?_" Quinn inquires.

"_No. Just gorgeous blonde ones who need to be taken down a peg_," Santana counters.

"_So you think I'm gorgeous?"_

"_Seriously? Quinn Fabray you hardly need to fish for a compliment. Besides after what just transpired, there should be no doubt what I think about you,_" she replies.

But for Quinn, that's exactly what the problem was. She wasn't quite sure what Santana thought of her at this moment. Wasn't it Santana judging her that lead them to be in this situation in the first place. Did she think she was easy? Did Santana think that she opened her legs for every Tom, Dick and Harriet? The bigger question, the one that keep nagging at, was why did she care what Santana thought of her anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So I feel kind of blah about this chapter. Probably the reason it took so long for me to get it posted. It's a necessary one to move the story along. On the other hand, the last part of this chapter is gratuitous and highly unnecessary. I wrote it purely for my own enjoyment/entertainment. :-) As always, read, review, favorite, follow and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: None of the music I'm using is mine.**

**...**

Santana awakens to a drum line doing a routine in her head. She rolls over in her bed grateful that she had the foresight to have blackout curtains installed. Although the sun had been up for a while, it was still pitch black in her room. How much did she have to drink last night? She never gets that far gone where she can't remember the next day. Something about being around Quinn Fabray made her nervous and she needed something to take the edge off. The whole evening was kind of fuzzy. She remembered picking Quinn up for dinner. She remembered how the sight of Quinn made her feel things in her lady loins. She remembered taking her to Osteria for dinner. She remembered dinner conversation was fun and flirty. How many bottles of wine did they go through? Two, maybe three. How ever many it was, she knew it was enough for the Ice Queen known as Miss Fabray to warm up to her. Boy did she ever get hot. No matter how hazy the previous evening was, she remembers that part vividly. Sex with Quinn was nothing short of magnificent. She knew it would be and was not disappointed in the least. Santana groans again, but this time is from the memory of how exquisite Quinn Fabray felt on her finger tips. Then there was her taste. Santana doesn't think she has ever tasted anything so heavenly. Her alarm sounds again and she makes an effort to get out of bed. She has a few things she would like to get done today. She finally summons the strength to get a start on her morning. She showers and is in the middle of brushing her teeth when she hears her laptop. She peeks and sees its Noah trying to FaceTime her. After spitting, she goes to answer it.

"What's up Puck?" she answers.

"Just wondering where you're at," he says.

"Umm at home. Why do you ask?"

"Because I booked you studio time and you were supposed to be here an hour ago?" Noah says.

"But it's Saturday. Don't I get one day to myself?" Santana whines.

"There's no rest for the wicked. So get your fine ass in gear and get down here asap."

"I'm on the way?" Santana huffs.

"I'll stall as long as I can. Hurry it up will you."

Santana shuts her laptop down and gets a move on. She runs through an abbreviated version of her morning routine in an effort to save time. After her evening with Quinn, nothing can wreck the splendid mood she's in. She keeps humming a melody that she can't seem to get out of her head. She's mumbling some words, not even really releasing what's she's doing. She hops in her car and speeds down the highway, still humming away.

...

The melody that Santana had in her head stayed with her all the way to the studio. She was able to get it out to the producer, who then turned it into actual sound and not just something in Santana's mind. She got in the booth and listened to the music. That's when the song gained a life of its own. The lyrics came at her so quickly she could barely get them down on paper fast enough.

"Alright Rico, run it back for me again," Santana says.

She closes her eyes and lets the music playing in her head phones. All she seems to see is Quinn's face. Santana has been trying to shake the blonde from the moment she met her. She felt the instant attraction between the two of them, but she didn't think anything of it. She had an instant attraction with a lot of women. It usually lost its fizzle after a romp or two in the sack. Santana figured once they had slept together, her infatuation with the blonde would be exorcised. She couldn't have been more wrong. If anything, it made her desire for Quinn that much stronger. She had gotten under her skin and Santana couldn't dispel the feeling.

_Staring in the mirror as I,_

_Start to carefully contemplate just really how deep is this thing I have for you._

_It's wearing on my heart._

_And from the start you know I tried, steadily denied._

_Friendship turned to love._

_I know you probably think that I'm so strange,_

_Stuttering on every word when you look my, why?_

_And maybe it's all in my mind,_

_But when we hugged goodbye I had butterflies._

_I just died._

A small smile plays across Santana's lips as thoughts of Quinn keep flooding her consciousness.

_I just died in your arms tonight._

_Don't want nobody to bring me back to life._

_I just died in your arms tonight, hey hey._

_I just died in your arms._

_I just died in your arms tonight. Tonight._

The further she gets into the song, the more and more it starts to become clear to her that it is about Quinn. She doesn't know when the amorous feelings started to replace the lustful ones, but she knows something has changed for her. Santana opens here eyes half way through the second chorus and notices that she has a visitor. The one and only Mercedes Jones is in the studio, bobbing her head to the music. She gives Mercedes a wink and she continues singing. She lets her silky voice dance over the track and bring the song home. Rico presses a button to speak to Santana, who's still in the booth.

"I don't know what you did to come up with that, but whatever it is, keep doing it. Cause that shit right there was magical," he proclaims.

Santana laughs and removes her head phones. She makes her way out of the booth and to a smiling Noah.

"That was an absolute hit. Snixx does it again," he says.

"I told you to have faith in me," Santana gloats.

"You know I trust you. It's the big wigs upstairs that were nervous about you getting this album done on time," Noah explains.

"You know I do my best work under pressure," Santana answers.

She moves to where Mercedes is waiting for her.

"Diva," Santana greets her.

They hug and exchanges kisses on the check. Mercedes holds Santana at arms length and gives her the once over.

"What?" Santana asks.

"So who is she? And don't try to feed me a line of crap. You have that look in your eyes," Mercedes says.

"What look?" Santana questions.

"The one you get when you've found someone who can hold your interest for more than a few hours. Besides, I just heard that song you recorded. So again, who is the person who has put the starry eyed look on your face?"

Santana sighs.

"Mercedes to you believe in love at first sight? Or maybe not first sight, but fifth sight?" she asks.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Did you just say love? How long have you been seeing each other? Why am I just now finding out about this?" Mercedes shoots off rapidly.

"Well we're not actually seeing each other," Santana answers.

"So how do you know it's love?" Mercedes inquires.

"We had an encounter," Santana starts.

"Oh so you're not in love with her, you're in love with her sugar walls," Mercedes states matter of factly.

"If only it was that simple. I can't explain it, but I feel something for her."

"Then I definitely have to meet her. You haven't been remotely close to mentioning the 'L' word since,"

Santana raises a hand to cut Mercedes off.

"You know you're not allowed to speak that name in my presence," she says.

"Girl you're going to have to let that go. You'll never be able to be happy with your mystery woman as long as you let you know who hold your emotions hostage," Mercedes lectures.

Santana disregards Mercedes' last statement. She's not in the mood to be scolded.

"How long are you home for?" Santana asks.

"About a month before I head out on tour. I'm doing a show down in Santa Monica. You should come through. Bring a guest," Mercedes hints.

"That sounds like fun. It's been awhile since I've been able to see you perform live."

"It's a date then. Gimme some sugar."

The friends hug and kiss again. Mercedes takes her leave. Santana smiles to herself, thinking about bringing Quinn to meet Mercedes. It had been awhile since she felt the inclination to introduce someone to her friends.

"Quinn Fabray, what have you done to me," she ponders.

...

After her amazing session at the studio, Santana is on a high for the rest of the weekend. The only sore spot is that she hasn't spoken to Quinn yet. She has called and texted a few times, but received no response. She doesn't let it bother her too much. She assumes Quinn is busy. Besides she knows she will get to see her soon enough. What she has to say is much better said in person anyway.

Santana hops out of bed with a spring in her step. She pulls back the curtains and smiles at another beautiful California day greeting her. She collects her things and heads outside to go through her yoga routine. She finishes it feeling completely centered and at ease. Santana finds herself, once again, humming a tune that she doesn't know the words to yet. She goes about getting ready, feeling like nothing can ruin her good mood. She's standing in the middle of her closest when she hears her laptop alerting her of a FaceTime call coming through. She contemplates whether or not she should answer the call. She really doesn't have the time. Santana approaches the screen and the name stops her cold. She hasn't spoken to the caller in months. She knows nothing good can come of this conversation, but her curiosity wins out. She has a few minutes to spare.

"I see you're still breathtaking first thing in the morning."

"What do you want Brittany?" Santana asks.

"It's been a few months San. I miss you," Brittany says.

Brittany and Santana meet when they were on tour together with Mercedes. Brittany was hired on as one of the back up dancers. She and Santana had an instant connection. The two soon became inseparable. They often shared a room. Whenever they would land in a new city, they would go out and explore. Always finding little things that only the two of them thought was interesting. Santana felt herself falling for the eccentric beauty. She loved the way Brittany's mind worked. How she didn't feel the need to adhere to social normalities. One night, after a nice amount of liquid courage, she confessed her growing attraction to Brittany. Santana was more than pleased to learn that her feelings weren't one sided. They began a whirlwind romance. Santana had known from an early age that she was attracted to women. She spent most of her teenage years suppressing that attraction. Then she spent most of her college years letting that attraction run wild. She had fun and gained a fair share of experience, but she always kept everyone at a distance. Santana always felt like emotional entanglements were a waste of time and energy. That was until Brittany came along. The blonde shattered everyone of Santana's barriers. She fell for Brittany fast and hard. It was because of Brittany that Santana began to believe in the notion of being in a committed relationship. All the silly, sappy love songs on the radio finally made sense. Brittany was the only person that made Santana want to give her heart, wholly and completely, to someone else. With Brittany she truly felt free. Brittany never felt the need to label what they were or even who she was, for that matter. They just were. Santana always found it ironic that Brittany's free spirit, the very thing that made Santana fall for her in the first place, is the same thing that caused her so much heartache. Even though it had been two years since they had broken up, she still remembered it like it was yesterday. Santana had felt a bit of distance growing between her and Brittany. She tried to ignore it, blaming the hectic tour schedule for the emotional detachment. When she could no longer ignore it, Santana confronted Brittany. Brittany explained to Santana that while she did love her, she couldn't be tied down. Her career was taking off and she wasn't going to let anyone stand in the way of her reaching her goals. She then admitted that she had been seeing an up and coming director. Artie Abrams was slated to be the next Scorsese. His star was rising fast and Brittany wanted to latch on. She explained to Santana that her relationship with Artie was getting kind of serious and she wanted to see where it would go.

Santana mourned her relationship with Brittany for months. She was grateful that not longer after they broke up, Brittany left the tour. Artie was going to put her in his next movie and the tour schedule would interfere with that. The only good that came from their separation was Santana was able to write an album's worth of break up music. It was one of her songs about Brittany that Mercedes heard during the sound check on that fateful day. Santana promised herself from then on that her only love would be her music. So she would meet women and show them the time of their lives. Occasionally she would let one of them seek out the treasures between her thighs, but it was a rare occurrence. Santana enjoyed controlling her encounters and usually got off on bringing women pleasure. Being in control was the only way she knew how to protect her heart.

"What, you got bored with your latest arm piece so you figured you'd call up ole reliable?" Santana questions.

"It's not even like that. No matter who I'm with, nobody can replace you."

"That's why you felt the need to stray outside of our relationship?"

"Baby you know variety is the spice of life, but you will always be home to me," Brittany answers.

"Funny thing is I have trouble believing that."

"I know you miss me too. Tell me, when's the last time you let someone scratch that itch? You know nobody can please you like I can," Brittany taunts.

"I told you last time Brittany, I'm not going to do this back and forth with you anymore. It's either all or nothing."

"Why must you feel the need to conform to heteronormative standards of monogamy?" Brittany probes.

"I don't have time for this Brittany. I'm late getting to the studio," Santana explains.

"If you change your mind, I'll be in town for a few weeks before I head out again. I'll be waiting for your call. Oh, and do tell Artie I said hello."

Brittany signs off and Santana stares at the blank screen. She slams the laptop closed in anger and goes back to finding something to wear. Could this day get any worst?

...

After her conversation with Brittany, Santana is off of her game all day. She has a growing sense of irritation nagging at the edges of her temper. She has blown up at more than a few production assistants over the most trivial things and keeps forgetting her lines. It's after she has fumbled her words for the fifteenth time that day, that Quinn has lost her cool. She leaves the set and says she wouldn't be back until Santana decides she is ready to work. Santana can feel her own frustration growing. She already has enough emotional turmoil going on, she doesn't need to add a confrontation with Quinn to the list. The two still hadn't spoken to each other since their tryst a few days before. Santana wanted the chance to talk to Quinn about everything, but her call with Brittany took more time than she expected and Santana wasn't afforded the opportunity. She figures now is as good a time as any. Santana heads off in the direction she knows Quinn is going. She knocks on the door of Quinn's trailer and waits for her to answer. Quinn opens the door to find Santana leaning against the frame.

"So is this going to be our thing now? I say or do something to piss you off, you storm away and I come to find you?" Santana asks.

Quinn returns to her place at the window. She doesn't respond to Santana's question. She's too busy staring off in the distance, trying to collect her thoughts.

"Did you get the flowers?" Santana asks.

"I did. They were lovely thank you."

"I called and I texted you. Repeatedly."

"I know," Quinn answers.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my mind Quinn. It's like I've had a hit of some extraordinary drug and I can't get enough."

Quinn remains unresponsive to Santana, still in a state of pensive contemplation. Santana takes advantage of Quinn's distracted demeanor and quickly moves behind her. She places her arms around Quinn's waist and starts to place kisses along her bare shoulders.

"Santana what are you doing?" Quinn asks.

"Sweetheart if you have to ask then I'm clearly not doing it right," Santana jokes.

Quinn shakes out of Santana's embrace and turns to face her.

"Santana what happened the other night was a mistake. It was a temporary lapse in judgement and there will be no repeat performance," Quinn says.

"So you don't want me to touch you?" Santana asks, taken aback.

Quinn shakes her head no.

"You don't want to feel my hands and mouth on your body again?" Santana questions.

"No I don't," Quinn answers.

"Well I don't believe you. I bet if I slipped my hand into your panties right now, you'd be soaking wet."

Quinn looks away hoping that Santana doesn't see the truth in her eyes. If she were being totally honest, she would be able to admit that all she was able to think about was the feel of Santana's touch all over her body.

"Look Santana, the other night I wasn't in the right state of mind and emotions were running high between the both of us," Quinn says.

"So you're saying that it was a one time thing and it won't happen again?" Santana asks.

"That's exactly what I'm saying?" Quinn reiterates.

Both woman are quiet for a moment. Tension fills the space around them.

"I'm, I'm seeing someone," Quinn admits.

"Really? You seemed awfully available when my name was rolling off your lips Friday night," Santana says.

Her words are laced with the stinging sharpness of someone who is wounded, but doesn't want to show their pain.

"It's complicated," Quinn says.

Santana bites her lip and tries to compose herself. She can't believe she was on the verge of committing the same fatal error again. What was it with her and beautiful, blonde, unavailable women.

"You know what, there's no need to explain. We had fun, but it is what it is. I'll be on set whenever your ready Miss Fabray," Santana says.

She turns and makes a hasty exit. Quinn flops down on the couch and lets out an exasperated sigh. She doesn't know why she brought David up. She hasn't thought of or even spoken to him since her first day in L.A. Quinn knew she needed a buffer between herself and Santana. Quinn could fell herself being caught up in Santana's charisma. She refused to just be something for the Latina to do until she finds someone else to occupy her time. Better to shut it down now before she got to far in. Quinn digs deep and wills herself back to set. The sooner she gets this day over with, the sooner she can get back home.

...

Santana and Quinn manage to be professional long enough to get through the rest of the scenes they needed to shoot. When Artie yells cut on the final one for the day, Quinn makes a beeline for her trailer. She quickly collects her things and is headed out front where she expects Jeffery to be waiting for her. She frowns when she doesn't see Jeffery there. Quinn checks her messages again to make sure that she had given him the correct time. When she's sees that she did give him the right information, she scrunches her face up again.

"You'll get lines on that pretty face if you keep doing that," Santana says.

She stands in the spot next to Quinn, waiting for her car to arrive as well. Quinn ignores Santana and instead focuses on getting in touch with her driver. She dials his number and waits for it to connect.

"Jeffery where are you?" she asks when he answers.

"I'm so sorry Miss Fabray. There's been an accident on the 405. Traffic is backed up for miles. It could be another hour before I get to you," Jeffery says.

"An hour!" Quinn replies.

She takes a look at the clock on her phone and groans. It's already pretty late in the evening. All she wants to do is get back to her hotel. It's been a long day and there's a bubble bath and a glass of Pinot with her name on it.

"Alright I'll see you when you get here."

Quinn ends her call just as Santana's black Escalade pulls up.

"If you need a ride, I'd be more than happy to take you wherever you need to go," Santana offers.

"No thank you. I'll just wait in my trailer. I can run lines in the mean time."

"Come on Quinn. It's been a long day. The last thing you need is to be cooped up in your trailer til God knows when. It's just a ride. So get in and let me take you where you need to go," Santana says.

Quinn huffs but concedes and gets in the vehicle. Santana hops in and they are soon on their way.

"Hey everybody, this is Quinn Fabray. Quinn Fabray, this is the squad," Santana says.

"The squad?" Quinn repeats, a hint of ridicule in her voice.

"Yes grandma, the squad. Try to keep up."

Santana turns her attention to her driver.

"That's Tank. He's an all purpose kind of guy. He's my driver, my bodyguard, my woman wrangler,"

"Woman wrangler?" Quinn questions.

"I have a lot of action coming my way. I need someone to keep them in line," Santana explains.

Quinn just shakes her head. Santana then motions to the row of seats behind them.

"That's Dice. Besides being my cousin, she's also my personal assistant."

Dice takes Quinn's hand and places several kisses on it.

"It is extremely nice to meet you, Quinn Fabray," she flirts.

"Back up prima. Ella es mia," Santana says.

"My bad cousin," Dice responds.

"Those two are Gabi and Siobhan. My stylist and makeup artist. They keep me on point at all times."

Both women are too engrossed in their phones to acknowledge Quinn's existence.

"Quite an entourage you have," Quinn notes.

"It's not easy being this fabulous, but someone has to do it."

With introductions out of the way, Quinn turns to stare out of her window while they continue their journey.

"Where to boss?" Tank asks.

Santana turns to Quinn.

"You're not in a rush to get home are you?" she asks.

"Actually I am. I'm beyond ready to peel out of these clothes," Quinn answers.

Santana licks her lips seductively and swallows the highly inappropriate comment screaming to get out.

"Come on Betty White. The night is still young. Tank head to the spot. Let's show Miss Fabray a good time," Santana says.

"You got it boss."

...

Thirty minutes later, the crew pulls up in front of a strip club. A valet comes out to retrieve the car and the sextet is ushered inside. The pounding of the music hits Quinn as soon as they hit the door.

"A strip club, Santana?" Quinn ask disbelievingly.

"Don't knock it yet Blondie. We just got here," Santana asks.

The group is quickly lead up to a private room. Santana takes a seat at the table in the middle of the room and everyone else falls in around her. Quinn looks around at her surroundings. She had been to a few strip clubs in her lifetime, but none as nice as this one. A couple of buckets of champagne are placed at the table, as well as a couple of bottles of vodka. Quinn had a feeling that Santana was a regular here.

"Another private room I see," Quinn comments.

Santana shrugs her shoulders.

"What can I say. This town loves me."

"Snixx, Diamond and Chardonnay aren't working tonight, but the owner promises that he's sending up his best girls," Dice says.

"Alright I suppose they'll have to do," Santana says.

The alcohol starts to flow as the first young lady takes the stage. She puts on a decent show, but Santana looks like she's less than impressed. Dice and Tank are very much into it, toss an obscene amount of cash at her. She finishes her dance and heads off stage. The next young lady comes up to do her thing. She is barely halfway through her dance before Santana cuts her off.

"Un uh, no me gusta," she says.

She turns and signals for the d.j. to cut the music.

"Sweetheart what's your name again?" Santana asks.

"Cinnamon," she answers.

"Cinnamon you're a very pretty girl and I'm sure you give plenty of guys a hard on when you do your little dance, but I'm what you call a connoisseur. What your doing right now wouldn't even make mi abuela blush."

Santana stands and approaches the stage.

"How about you have a seat and let me show you how this is done," Santana says.

Her entourage lets out a chorus of whistles and hollers. Clearly this is something Santana does on the regular. Santana makes a motion to the d.j. and he starts the music back up. Quinn hears the New Orleans brass over the hip hop beat and recognizes the song immediately. Of course this is the song Santana would dance to.

_Shake ya ass,_

_But watch yourself._

_Shake ya ass,_

_Show me what ya workin with._

Santana starts with a sexy strut around the pole. She turns with her back to the crowd and wiggles her ass when the song instructs her to do so. Her entourage bangs on the tables and shouts out cat calls, encourage Santana on. Quinn, on the other hand, is riveted to her seat. She couldn't take her eyes off of Santana if she wanted to. Her brain tries to compute all the different stimuli coming at her. Santana is wearing a tiny pair of black shorts that stop right underneath her butt cheeks. Her long tan legs are sprouting out of a pair of red 'fuck me' heels. Quinn's eyes dart back up to the tight red tank top that completes Santana's outfit. It has a deep vee and looks like it's barely containing Santana's ample breast. Her gorgeous hair is down and curly. She's oozing sex and Quinn is helpless to do anything but enjoy the show. Santana takes a swing around the pole, then proceeds to climb up it. Quinn holds her breath as she waits to see what Santana is going to do next.

_Attention all y'all players and pimps right now in the place to be._

_(Shake ya ass)_

_I thought I told y'all people before, can't nobody fuck with me._

_(But watch yourself)_

_Now this ain't for no small booties, no circles that won't pass._

_(Show me what you're working with)_

_And if you feel you got the biggest one, then momma come shake ya ass._

Once Santana gets to the top, she slides down really slow. She comes down, circling the pole and lands in a split. Quinn can feel her pulse quickening and takes a drink to quench her parched throat. Santana crawls to the edge of the stage and starts to pop her ass. She makes her way back to the pole and leans against it. She starts a slow grind, maintain eye contact with Quinn. She raises her tank top, exposing her abs, while she mouths some of the lyrics. She's bending and twisting, flipping her hair. Santana grabs the pole behind her and turns and does a cartwheel. She lands and bounces up and down, making sure her legs are wide open when she does. Quinn feels like she might lose her mind at any minute. Santana toss her a wink before she makes her way back up the pole. She reaches the top and stays there for a second singing along to the song.

"Break them hand cuffs, forget you man. Move something. And if he asks you what your doing?"

"Say eww nothing," the entourage responds.

Santana laughs and gets ready for her grand finale. Later when Quinn remembers this moment, she swears it happens in slow motion. Santana does a flip and comes down the pole upside down, legs in a perfect split. Quinn's mouth hangs open, in awe. She had never saw anything so titillating in her whole life. She pours herself a shot and downs it quickly. Santana lands perfectly and stands to take a bow.

"And that, people, is how you work the pole," she boasts.

Her crew goes nuts. They're clapping and whistling. Santana hops off of the stage and saunters over to Quinn.

"So what do you think?" she asks.

"Why am I not surprised at how good you are at that. Let me guess, you worked at a strip club to put yourself through college," Quinn says.

"Actually I went to college on a full academic scholarship. I pole dance because it's fun and it's an amazing workout. It requires an insane amount of athleticism," Santana points out.

"I'll take your word for it," Quinn says.

Quinn watches Santana walk over to her crew. Quinn notices the definition in her calf muscles. She also notices how nicely Santana's shorts are molded to her ass. Quinn remembers how that ass felt under her fingertips and takes another drink. Her conscience is fighting a losing battle with her libido. She reasons that she has to leave now before she does something she regrets.

"I'm ready to go Santana. It's late and I have an early call time in the morning," Quinn says.

"Far be it for me to be the one to keep you from your beauty rest. Tank, bring the car around please."

The posse heads out and jumps in the waiting SUV. The group is pretty raucous during the ride, but Quinn remains quiet. Every now and then, she can feel Santana's eyes on her. She doesn't acknowledge the silent questions coming from the woman next to her. She keeps her gaze firmly in place. The car comes to a stop and Quinn moves to get out. Santana grabs her wrist, stopping her.

"Let me walk you to the door," Santana says.

Quinn nods her consent and they both get out. Quinn places her key in the lock. She freezes when she feels Santana pressed against her.

"Let me come in," Santana whispers into the back of her hair.

"No," Quinn whispers back.

"Are you sure?" Santana asks.

"No," Quinn replies.

Santana lets out a soft chuckle.

"But I am sure that I'll be sleeping alone tonight," Quinn says.

Santana takes a step back, respecting the blonde's wishes.

"I'll see you in the morning, Miss Fabray."

"Drive safely."

Quinn lets herself in and tosses the keys on the table by the door. She turns on a low lamp and takes in the numerous bouquets of Forget Me Nots and red Tulips that Santana had sent her days ago. She wades through the sea of flowers and heads to the bedroom. She just has removed her shoes when there's a knock at the door.

"It's probably Santana," she muses.

She heads back in the direction she just came from, expecting to find Santana trying to talk her way inside. What she wasn't expecting to find is David, looking awfully contrite.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn snaps.

"I came to get you back Q. We haven't spoken in weeks and our last conversation ended badly. I want to prove to you that I'm serious about us," he explains.

"Where does Sheila think you are?" Quinn asks.

"It doesn't matter. I'm leaving her for real this time. Quinn I only want to be with you."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ARRRGGGH! I had writer's block something serious. Shout out to momo0424. Your comment tickled me to the point that I was motivated enough to finally get this chapter done. So here it is. Hope you guys like it. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy!**

**...**

"Can I come in?" David asks.

"No," Quinn replies.

"Please?"

"Fine," Quinn sighs.

She leaves David at the door and heads in search of that Pinot she wanted so very much. Was it only just a few hours ago that she had planned to have a simple, relaxing evening alone? How quickly things change.

"Who are all these flowers from?" David asks.

"Santana."

"Why did she send you so many flowers?"

"Gratitude."

"For?"

"I don't know. Me agreeing to do this movie, I guess," Quinn replies.

"Red tulips are an awfully romantic gesture to be sending to someone your trying to show gratitude."

Quinn shrugs her shoulders and takes another sip. David shelves this matter in his mind for a later date. He has more pressing things to take care of at the moment.

"Q we need to talk," he starts.

"David we don't have anything to talk about."

"Darling please hear me out."

Quinn takes her glass and wanders into the sitting room. She situates herself on her favorite sofa and motions for David to continue. He notices the way she's kind of swaying when she sits and the air of complete nonchalance.

"Are you intoxicated?" David asks.

"I might be. And if I am, you're seriously killing my buzz right now," she answers.

"I'd prefer to do this when you're sober."

"I'd prefer you didn't do this at all."

"Quinn please," David begs for the third time this evening.

Quinn can't remember the last time David had been so whiny and submissive. He's like a shell of his former self and it's highly unattractive. He doesn't have half of the confidence Santana has. Quinn frowns when she finds her thoughts drift to the beautiful brunette who dropped her off not too long ago. She takes a breath and tries to focus in on what David is saying.

"I want us both to be in possession of our mental faculties when we have this conversation," he explains.

He kneels in front of Quinn and grasps her hands. Quinn can feel herself succumbing to the familiar touch.

"Alright but I don't know when I'll have time to talk. I work long hours the rest of the week. Matter of fact, I need to be getting to bed now. I have an extra early call time," Quinn says.

"Then I'll come to set with you, if that's okay. I can wait in your trailer until you're free. I just want a chance to let you know what you mean to me before it's too late," he explains.

Quinn can feel her irritation dissipating. David is kneeling before her, begging to be forgiven. His big blue eyes are staring back at her, asking for another chance. His always perfectly in place brown hair is disheveled. His rugged jawline has a fair amount of stubble. He looks like a man on the verge of losing something precious to him.

"Ok let's get some rest," Quinn says.

David places a gentle kiss on the inside of Quinn's wrist. She grabs his hand and leads him towards the bedrooms.

...

Have you ever woken up with a sense of foreboding? Like the day you were about to embark on was going to be horrible? That's exactly how Santana woke up this morning. She rolls out of bed and pulls back the curtains. The sky is downcast and she can see the rain falling heavily.

"Tony, Toni, Toné lied to me," she grumbles.

She changes into her yoga gear and grabs her mat. She sets up in her sunroom and goes about her morning routine. After an hour, she doesn't feel anymore settled than when she first awoke. She wanders into her closet to find something to wear for the day. Her first instinct is to pick something she thinks Quinn will like her in. Santana smiles when she thinks about going out with Quinn the night before. Quinn might have told her that she didn't want her, but Santana knew better. She could feel the energy flowing between the two of them whenever they were within a few feet of each other. She smirks again when she remembers the look in Quinn's eyes after she finished her dance. If they had been alone, the blonde probably would've jumped her.

"Yeah she wants me," Santana says to herself.

Santana decides that Quinn just needs a little persuading. It had been a long time since she had to chase a woman. She was up for the challenge. She knew that Quinn Fabray would be more than worth the effort she had to put in. An idea pops in her head on how to woo Quinn and she goes in search of her phone to set it up. After all of her plans are firmly in place, Santana heads to the kitchen to make coffee. As the espresso machine is going, she peruses her calendar on her phone. She smiles at the date of her anticipated third album. She has a little more than two months before its coming out. Santana has a whirlwind of promotional events to do. Talk shows, radio interviews, a music video for her first single. She scrolls a little further down and sees a reminder for the Billboard Music Awards. She's slated to perform that night. Santana wants to do the first single off of her album. She shoots a message to Puck to have him set things in motion for her performance. Now all she has to figure out is who she's bringing. Maybe she could convince Quinn to go.

She downs the last dregs of her coffee and finishes getting ready. She grabs a coat and makes her way to her idling SUV. As usual, Tank is behind the wheel. She gets in and mumbles a greeting. Tank can tell she's in one of her moods and leaves Santana alone with her thoughts as he heads down the highway.

...

Santana's bad day got decidedly worst. The rain made traffic a bear and she was late getting to the studio. She hated to be late. Santana prided herself on her punctuality. Whether it be an interview or a performance, she always felt it was rude to keep people waiting. That's why she made it a point to not purposefully do so. She sulks all through wardrobe, hair and makeup. As a result of her tardiness, the whole day if shootng is put behind. Santana is sure it's going to mess with what she has planned for later. Her dark cloud isn't lifted until the moment she lays eyes on Quinn. She is sitting in one of the chairs off set waiting for her part in the scene. Santana strolls over and takes the seat next to her.

"Good morning Miss Fabray," Santana coos.

"Santana," Quinn answers.

She doesn't even look up from the book she's reading. Santana frowns. This is certainly not how she expected this exchange to go.

"How was the rest of your evening?" Santana asks.

Quinn flinches at the question. Santana notices her hesitance and is instantly on high alert.

"It was interesting," she says.

"Good interesting or bad interesting?"

"A little of both," Quinn says.

"Care to elaborate?" Santana asks.

Before Quinn can answer, Santana's phone alerts her of an incoming text. It's Puck reminding her of a club appearance she has scheduled for that evening. She curses under her breath. She completely forgot about it. She doesn't know how she missed it on her calendar. It definitely puts a wrench in her plans for Quinn later. Maybe she can just get Quinn to come with her and they can proceed with their evening from there.

"Everything ok?" Quinn asks.

"Absolutely. So, Miss Fabray, would you care to join me for a little outing later tonight?" Santana says.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she answers.

"What you don't want to be caught dead with the bonafide lesbian in public?"

"I have no problem with that and you know it. I have company in town," Quinn says.

"That's fine. Bring them with," Santana answers.

The truth is that it is anything but fine. Santana would much rather prefer to have Quinn all to herself.

"I don't know Santana," Quinn hesitates.

"Just think about it okay."

...

The crew has wrapped for the day and everyone is going about getting ready to leave. Santana decides to stop by Quinn's trailer to see if she has changed her mind about hanging out. She whistles a joyful ditty and has an exuberant bounce to her step. She knocks on the door and waits for Quinn to answer. She's more than surprised when a man opens instead of the beautiful object of her desire.

"I'm looking for Quinn," Santana states.

"The infamous Santana Lopez. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," David says.

Santana regards the gentleman standing in front of her. The only way she can think to describe him is a middle aged Harry Potter. A strong jaw covered by the stubble of a five o'clock shadow. Piercing blue eyes hidden behind fashionable spectacles. His auburn hair is cut in the last yuppie style. His thin lips are pursed into what Santana wouldn't call quite a smile. Everything about him screams stuffed shirt and stick firmly placed up his ass.

"I would say the same, but I don't know who the hell you are," Santana responds.

She brushes by him and sets her sights on Quinn. Santana gives her a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts, but Quinn doesn't return the gesture. There's something in her eyes almost akin to fear.

"I'm David, her boyfriend."

Boyfriend? Santana's smile turns into a frown as she turns to face the interloper. She regards the man again with a bit more scrutiny. He's an average height and a little on the scrawny side. She wouldn't take a second look at him if she saw him on the street. Santana wonders what he must possess to be able to get a gorgeous woman like Quinn Fabray to even give him the time of day. She quickly adjust the scowl on her face as she turns back to address Quinn.

"I was coming to find out if you made a decision on the offer I proposed earlier?" Santana asks.

"What offer?" David interjects.

Santana puts on her best smile to hide her growing annoyance with Ron Weasley's best friend.

"I get paid to make appearances at clubs from time to time. I have such an engagement tonight. I invited Quinn, and you, to join me," Santana explains.

"I don't really think David would enjoy something like that," Quinn says.

"Don't be ridiculous Q. You know I always appreciate a new adventure," David answers.

"Yeah Q, don't be ridiculous. Now David you know this club will be playing Hip Hop music. No Conway Twitty in sight," Santana teases.

Quinn snickers at what Santana assumes to be David's musical taste.

"I'm familiar with hip hop music," David boasts.

"Really? Name five hip hop songs on the radio right now," Santana challenges.

Quinn intercedes before David can embarrass himself any further.

"How about you text me when and where we should meet you?" Quinn suggests

"Sure thing. Catch you later Harry."

...

You fly as hell, swagger right, brown skin poppin.

You know just how to talk to me.

You know just how I like it.

You turnin me on.

You turnin me on.

You turnin me on.

Santana's song is blasting from the speakers as they enter the building. She does a little bop to it as her posse is ushered to the V.I.P. section. The excitement of Santana being present is very palpable. She stops for a few pictures and takes a shot with a couple fans along the way. All the while Quinn marvels at the way she works the room. She doesn't believe she's ever seen anything like it before. They reach the upper level and step behind the velvet rope. The V.I.P. section isn't nearly as crowded as the rest of the club. Quinn scans the people and can tell that it's filled with wannabes, used-to-bes and hanger ons, all clamoring for a minute of attention from Santana. Santana seems to know quite a few people in the crowd. She exchanges a couple more hugs and poses for a few more pictures before she saunters over to the balcony of the V.I.P.

"Yo, yo, yo! Santana Lopez is in the building! Let's run this joint back one more time!" the d.j. announces.

Santana waves to the people as her song starts over again. Her crew stands next to her and they dance along to the music. Quinn stands back and just takes it all in. Santana is in another outfit that leaves very little to the imagination. She is in all black leather. Her pants, while they are capris, are skin tight and mold to ever inch of her frame perfectly. Her top can only really be described as a bra. It leaves miles of Santana's radiant tan skin exposed and shows off her abs in all their glory. Quinn admires that particular part of her body for a little longer than she probably should. She watches the way the light hits them and how the muscles move as Santana dances. Quinn wonders what kind of workout regimen she has. Then she wonders what it would feel like to run her tongue over them.

"This is certainly a departure from the norm," David says in her ear.

Quinn is peeved with his interrupting of what was turning into an elaborate fantasy.

"It is. Are you uncomfortable? We don't have to stay long if you are," Quinn says.

"No I'm okay. Besides, when am I ever going to have another opportunity like this?" he says.

Quinn turns her attention back to Santana, who has ventured over to the booth setup for them. She's pouring drinks and laughing. She looks up and catches Quinn's eye. She gives her a wink and a smile before going back to being the life of the party. Quinn is pretty sure she can feel the heat rising on her cheeks from just the barest acknowledgement from Santana. She downs the rest of her drink.

"I'm going to get a refill," she tells David.

"Cool I'll come with you."

The pair strolls over to where Santana is holding court. Once they're within earshot, Quinn lifts her empty glass to Santana.

"Are you guys enjoying yourselves so far?" she asks as she pours champagne into Quinn's glass.

"It's very interesting to see how the other side lives?" David comments.

Santana and her entire crew get quiet. Everyone is eyeing David menacingly. Quinn just shakes her head, pretty sure at what David is implying.

"And what the hell side would that be?" Santana asks.

"The rich and famous and wildly successful side," he recovers smoothly.

Quinn sighs as a potentially explosive situation is averted.

"You better watch yourself, homie. You don't want none of the wrath of Snixx," Dice chimes up.

"Yeah she's like the Incredible Hulk. That shit can be bad for your health," Gabi adds.

Feeling like David has been sufficiently reprimanded, Santana goes back to entertaining.

Most of the evening continues on in the same manner. Santana looks like she is having the time of her life. She wanders over ever couple of songs to see how Quinn and David are doing. What stood out the most to Quinn was the flock of women trying to vie for Santana's attention. What was even more interesting was that Santana turned everyone of them down. It wasn't that any of them were unattractive. The majority of them were nothing short of stunning. Quinn knew the rumors about Santana. Hell, the woman herself proclaimed that she got around. It puzzled Quinn why she wouldn't want someone to keep her company. At the same time, a part of Quinn was happy to know that Santana would be going home alone tonight.

"Oh this is my song. I've got to dance to this," Santana proclaims from across the way.

She hops down from her perch on top of one of the sofas and walks over to Quinn.

"David you don't mind if I dance with your lady do you?" Santana asks.

"Be my guest," David replies.

Santana leads an unsuspecting Quinn just a few feet away from David. She intends to put on a show and wants to make sure Harry Potter catches every second of it. She places Quinn's hands on her hips before placing her own hands on the blonde's shoulders. Quinn holds her breath as her fingertips brush across Santana's exposed midsection. Santana starts to roll against her slowly. She is surprised but very pleased that Quinn is keeping up with her. She didn't figure the blonde to be much of a dancer. Quinn, on the other hand, knew that Santana could move. She watched her at the strip club intently. What she wasn't ready for was how her body reacted as Santana was moving against her. The rhythm of Santana's hips is hypnotic. She is winding them to the beat. Santana is hitting all of Quinn's pressure points as she does so. All Quinn can seem to think about is them in various states of undress. Santana turns around and pushes her ass firmly into Quinn's center. She doesn't stop the mesmerizing movement of her hips as she places Quinn's hand on her stomach. Quinn bites her lip to stifle the groan that's threatening to escape. The feel of Santana's body coupled with Santana's hand in her hair has her about to lose it. Santana slides her body up and down Quinn's a few times. Quinn is pretty sure that she isn't breathing anymore. Santana suddenly turns Quinn around so that her back is pressed into the Latina's front. She continues the slow grind, but this time with her hands on Quinn's waist. She sweeps Quinn's hair to the side so she can sing the chorus in her ear.

"Shorty want a thug. Bottles in the club. Shorty want to hump. And oh I like to touch her lovely lady lumps."

Santana makes sure to caress every inch of her silhouette as she says the last line. Quinn's eyes are closed and she is lost in the magic of Santana. Santana can feel Quinn's resolve wavering. She sees an opportunity to press her point.

"Tell me again you don't want me Quinn," Santana demands.

Quinn can't honestly think of a reason why she should tell Santana no. She opens her eyes to answer Santana and they land directly on David. His eyes are keenly fixed on them and he's tracking their every move. Quinn is swiftly brought out of her reverie. She puts a little space between herself and Santana.

"I don't want you," Quinn answers regretfully.

"Is that your final answer?" Santana asks.

"Yes," Quinn replies.

Santana doesn't say anything. She just nods and heads back to her entourage.

"That was really hot," David says.

Quinn is still lost, trying to come to grips with what just happened.

"You two move very well together," David says with a hint of suspension.

Quinn doesn't respond. She's too busy watching Santana dance with some girl. She's pretty, petite and blonde. Santana is bumping and grind up against her and the girl is eating it up. After watching them for a few minutes, it's very clear how this interaction is going to end. Quinn watches as Santana whispers something in the girl's ear and she nods enthusiastically. Santana makes her way back over to Quinn.

"I'm heading out, but the two of you feel free to stay as long as you want. Everything has already been paid for, so go nuts," Santana says.

She gives Quinn one last longing look before she grabs her plaything and heads for the door.

"She doesn't has any problem getting women does she?" David comments.

"No she doesn't," Quinn answers.

She tries to swallow down the jealous that's creeping up.

...

"I can't believe I'm about to sleep with Santana Lopez," the girl gushes.

The two of them are in the back of Santana's Escalade as Tank steers them through traffic. The girl is practically glued to Santana's side. Santana looks like she wants to be anywhere but here.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Dianna right?" Santana asks.

"Yes," Dianna answers.

"But it's not that type of party. My boy Tank will take you where ever you need to go."

Santana had every intention of sleeping with the pretty blonde when she left the club. After being rejected by Quinn, for the second time, Santana's ego had been bruised. So she picked somebody that would fit the bill for the time being. It wasn't until she got the girl in to the car that Santana realized she had picked a Quinn look-a-like.

"Wait what's happening?" Dianna asks, thoroughly confused.

"What's happening is I'm going home without you," Santana says.

Dianna huffs and slides over to the other side of the vehicle.

"I could've stayed at the club for this. I heard Drake was supposed to be coming," she mumbles.

Santana ignores her and rests her head back on the seat. She can't wait to get back to the safe solitude of her home.

...

It had been a week since Quinn had went out with Santana. Neither one of them spoke on how the evening ended. They kept it professional and did what they had come to do. Santana didn't have a chance to get Quinn one on one. David seemed to be there every time she turned around. One day during lunch break, Santana finds Quinn lying on a blanket in a nice sunny patch of grass. She decides to take advantage of the situation and approaches the blonde.

"Miss Fabray," Santana greets her.

"Santana," Quinn says.

She has on sunglasses that are preventing Santana from seeing her eyes. Quinn's tone isn't giving anything away. Santana can't read her and it intimidates her a little.

"So I was going to drive down to Santa Monica later this evening. A friend of mine is performing and I wanted to know if you'd like to accompany me?" Santana asks.

"I'm not interested," Quinn answers.

"Even if it's Mercedes Jones?"

At the mention of Mercedes' name, Quinn lifts her sunglasses. Santana smiles, knowing that she has piqued Quinn's interest.

"Mercedes Jones? As in 'Shakin My Head' Mercedes Jones?" Quinn asks.

"The one and only," Santana says.

She grins with pride. Quinn hasn't been the least impressed by any of her status or fame. It feels nice to have something she can give Quinn access to that she might not otherwise be able to get on her own.

"In that case, what time should I be ready?" Quinn asks.

"I'd like to leave from the lot if you have something here to wear."

"I do," Quinn responds.

"Good then meet me out front at seven."

...

Quinn is surprised to find Santana behind the wheel of the vehicle that's out front waiting for her. She gets into the passenger side and Santana smiles at her.

"No entourage today?" Quinn inquires.

"Nope. The entourage is only for when I'm doing Snixx things. This is a Santana thing."

"Is there a difference?" Quinn questions.

"Yes. Snixx is who I show the public. Santana is reserved solely for family and people I care about."

Quinn takes a second to digest what Santana just said. She wonders where she falls on that spectrum, but doesn't dare ask. After a brief silence, she speaks again.

"So this is kind of lowbrow for Mercedes, isn't it?" Quinn asks.

"Every once in a while she likes to perform at the little hole in the wall places that gave Mercedes her start. It's her way of not forgetting where she's come from," Santana answers.

There's a hint of something in Quinn's voice that Santana can't quite place her finger on. She hopes her companion isn't regretting her decision for the two of them to be hanging out again. The last couple times didn't end well and Santana is praying that the third time is the charm. She turns the radio on to combat the growing silence that is filling the automobile. The smooth sounds of The Isley Brothers '_For The Love Of You_' glides out of the speakers.

"Drifting on a memory. Ain't no place I'd rather be than with you. Loving you," Quinn sings along.

"Hold up. What do you know about this song?" Santana asks incredulously.

"I could ask you the same thing youngster," Quinn counters.

"Touché."

"Come on now who doesn't love The Isleys. But honestly, all I really listen to is old school. Music today is deplorable. There's no musicality at all. It's all computers and auto tune," Quinn rants.

"I would take offense, but I understand what you mean. So you have a passion for music I see."

Quinn nods in the affirmative.

"Alright then, pop quiz time. Donnie or Marvin?" Santana asks.

"Hmm that's tough, but I have to go with Marvin," Quinn answers.

"Okay. Patti or Aretha?"

"Aretha, duh."

"On three, what's your favorite Earth, Wind and Fire song."

Santana counts down and they both shout out '_Fantasy_'. Santana glances at Quinn and smiles.

"I see you Blondie. You have a little bit of soul," Santana comments.

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, Santana. I'm full of surprises," Quinn says with a wink.

...

"I want to let Mercedes know that I'm here before the show starts," Santana says.

She smiles at Mercedes' bodyguards as she and Quinn make their way back to the dressing room. Santana knocks a few times and waits for Mercedes to answer.

"Who is it?"

"Just an adoring fan hoping to get a picture with Miss Jones," Santana says.

She opens the door and she and Quinn make their way inside.

"San, you made it," Mercedes says.

She engulfs Santana in a hug. Santana disengages herself and turns to introduce Quinn.

"Cedes, this is,"

"Lucy Fabray! As I live and breathe, is that you?" Mercedes exclaims.

"Diva! It's been too long," Quinn replies.

The women share a warm embrace as Santana stands to the side, utterly bewildered. She can't believe that the two of them know each other. And who the hell is Lucy?

"Wait a minute? How do you guys know each other?" Santana questions.

"Lucy and I go way back," Mercedes answers.

"Yeah we've been thick as thieves since high school," Quinn adds.

"How did I not know this? And why do you keep calling her Lucy?" Santana asks.

"That's because you only half way pay attention when I'm talking to you. I've always talked about my girl Lucy that I was in glee club with," Mercedes says.

"So that Lucy is you?" Santana asks.

Quinn nods her head yes.

"And the name thing?" Santana inquires.

"Wouldn't you like to know? A girl has to keep some mystery about herself," Quinn smiles.

Santana looks like she's about to voice her protest, but Mercedes shuts her down.

"As much as I'd like to catch up, I have a show to do and I still need to get ready," she says.

Santana and Quinn both place a kiss on her cheek and head back out to the area Mercedes has reserved for them. It's an elevated seating area that has been sectioned off. There's a table with a couple of chairs and even some room to dance if the mood so hits them. The small club is filled to capacity. Santana and Quinn are grateful for the room they have to be able to move around. They take their seats just as the lights dim. A spotlight comes up and Mercedes is sitting dead center. The audience goes nuts. Quinn and Santana holler and whistle, bursting with pride for their friend.

"Good evening everyone and welcome to an intimate evening with the Diva."

Mercedes begins her set. Quinn and Santana sit back and enjoy the show. They snap and bob their heads. They sing along to the songs they know, which Quinn is noticing, Santana knows most of them. They even stand up and applaud when Mercedes hits a particularly difficult note. Santana takes a sip of her drink and Quinn observes that she's been drinking sparkling water with a twist of lime all evening.

"Not drinking tonight?" Quinn asks.

"I usually don't," Santana says.

Quinn scoffs.

"Please. I see you with a bottle, or two, in your hands every time we go out," she states.

"Yes, but how many times have you seen me drink from the bottles?" Santana asks.

Quinn had always wondered how Santana could drink so much and not be intoxicated. She had attributed it to the younger woman having a high tolerance. When she really thought about it, Santana did only ever have one shot or a few sips of champagne. The only instance she can recall of the alcohol getting the best of Santana is that fateful night in the restaurant. She starts to turn red at the thought of what transpired. Santana gives her a curious look, wondering what brought about the sudden blush.

"Ladies and gentleman, we've reached the part of my show where I like to pay homage to the divas who have come before me," Mercedes announces.

"I love when she does this," Santana expresses.

She sits back in her chair and waits to see what song Mercedes has chosen to do. Santana is never disappointed when she does an old school cut.

_Somebody loves you baby_

_Ohh ohh ohh_

_Somebody loves you baby_

_Ohh ohh ohh_

_Somebody loves you baby_

_Ohh ohh ohh_

_Somebody loves you baby_

_You know who it is_

"Yes diva," Santana vocalizes her delight.

She recognizes the song immediately. She looks over and sees Quinn swaying with her eyes closed. Santana takes in her profile. The shimmer of her hair. The curve of her nose and lips. How her skin seems to have a magnificent glow to it. Santana digs deep to summon up the courage to make her next move. She runs a finger lightly over Quinn's knuckles to get her attention. The bright hazel eyes open and regard Santana.

"Dance with me," she utters.

_It happened so suddenly._

_I woke up one morning with you on my mind._

_No matter what i did._

_Couldn't stop thinking about you ._

_Wanted an instant replay of yesterday._

Santana places her hands on Quinn's waist and pulls her close. Quinn wraps her arms around Santana's neck and allows the smaller woman to lead. There's something so much more intimate about this dance than the previous one they shared. Everything about Santana seems different. The feel of her skin. The touch of her hand. The look in her eyes. That's the biggest difference. Santana is staring at her unwaveringly. Quinn can see that Santana's eyes are trying to tell her something, but she can't decipher the message.

_Somebody loves you baby_

_Ohh ohh ohh_

_Somebody loves you baby_

_Ohh ohh ohh_

_Somebody loves you baby_

_Ohh ohh ohh_

_Somebody loves you baby_

_You know who it is_

Santana closes her eyes and takes a minute to revel in the moment. She inhales deeply. For as long as she lives, she'll never be able to get the scent of Quinn out of her mind. She wraps her arms around her and pulls Quinn even closer. Quinn grips her tightly. She plays with the hair at the nape of Santana's neck as they sway together.

_I need you right now_

_Baby don't say no_

_Cause you look like you're ready to get it on_

_Whatever you give me_

_I give it to you back_

_All the love honey you'll ever need I'll give it to you._

Santana sings along with Mercedes. She can feel the emotions that have been welling up start to get the best of her. She places tender kisses on Quinn's temple. Then she moves to her forehead. Then her nose. Quinn smiles at the gesture. Her breath quickens with thought of Santana kissing her lips again. Instead Santana grabs one of the arms from her shoulder and places a gentle kiss on the inside of Quinn's wrist. Quinn freezes and her eyes shoot open, remembering David's lips in the same place not too long ago.

"What's wrong?" Santana asks.

"I need to go," Quinn stammers.

"Did I do something wrong? If I did, I'm so sorry for stepping over my bounds," Santana apologizes.

"Can we just go, please?" Quinn says again.

"Quinn," Santana begs.

"Santana. Please," Quinn says more firmly.

Santana sighs, gathers her things and follows Quinn to her car. The entire ride, Santana keeps replaying her actions. For the life of her, she can't figure out how such a wonderful evening could end so terribly.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Umm... Here it is. Read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy. And again, nine of the music in this chapter is mine.**

**...**

"Quinn open the door!"

Quinn is startled awake by the banging on her bedroom door. She blinks her eyes a few times trying to get her bearings. She glances at the clock and sees that it isn't even eight yet. She had planned to sleep in today. It was her day off and she had nothing on her agenda.

"Quinn, I know you can hear me!" he shouts.

Quinn stretches, trying to shake the last bits of sleep from her. She takes her time making her way to the bedroom door. She is in no hurry to face what is on the other side.

"What do you want David?" she asks.

"Do you know anything about this?"

Quinn is at a lost to what he's talking about. She yawns and takes a look at the magazine he's waving in her face.

"Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez, Hot and Heavy," she reads aloud.

Some gossip rag has a picture of Santana and her dancing at Mercedes' show on the cover. Quinn thumbs through the pages and sees that they captured a dozen candid shots. Quinn and Santana leaving a restaurant. Quinn getting into the back of Santana's SUV. The two of them dancing at Santana's club appearance. They even had a picture of them entering the strip club together.

"Yes Quinn, it says hot and heavy. So I repeat. Do. You. Know. Anything. About. This?"

Quinn grabs her eyeglasses off of the nightstand, feeling blind as a bat without her contacts in. She meanders to the kitchen for some caffeine. It's evident that she won't be going back to sleep anytime soon. David is hot on her heels, clearly not done discussing the matter. Quinn pretends as if he's not even there, going about crafting the perfect cup of coffee.

"You didn't answer me Quinn," he says.

Quinn takes a sip of her coffee. She frowns at the taste and adds a little more cream. She takes another sip and grins, satisfied that it's just the way she likes it. She looks at David over the rim of her cup as she continues to drink. He looks like he might be on the verge of bursting a blood vessel.

"I didn't answer you because I felt the question didn't require a response," Quinn finally says.

"How would you figure that?" David bristles.

"David this is a tabloid. Not the New York Times or the L.A. Post, but a gossip magazine. Ninety percent of what they publish is based off of rumors. The other ten percent is pure speculation. I mean look at the title. Hot and heavy? It's beyond cheesy. I don't even understand how you can begin to take something like this seriously."

Quinn takes her drink and heads to the patio. She pushes back the sliding doors and welcomes the warm California sun hitting her face. She takes a seat in a lounge chair.

"Quinn this isn't speculation. These are pictures. Pictures!"

David taps the photos in question to emphasize his point. Quinn waves him off dismissively.

"I know there's something going on with you two. I saw the way you danced with her. She touched your body like she knew it, intimately," he accuses.

Quinn swallows but doesn't give anything away. She keeps her expression neutral, appearing unfazed by his accusation.

"Then there's the flowers. Is she the reason you're forcing me to sleep in the second bedroom?" he questions.

"No. The reason you're sleeping in the second bedroom is because we still haven't resolved our issues. We haven't dealt with the reason you came here in the first place at all."

Truth be told, Quinn couldn't bring herself to be intimate with David. Santana had awoken something inside of her that had been dormant for awhile. Quinn had been running from the feelings ever since. She didn't want to have to come up with excuses to bat down David's advances. Sleeping in separate rooms made it easier to avoid the situation all together.

"You went to a strip club with her!" David screeches.

Quinn just shrugs her shoulders.

"I can't even get you to come to a bookstore with me," he says.

"That's because you have a wife and in order for us to go anywhere in public together, you want to travel two hours from the city," Quinn points out.

"That's besides the point," David dismisses.

"No David, actually that is the point. And where did you even get this sorry waste of paper from?" Quinn asks.

"It was outside of the front door this morning."

Quinn wonders why someone would put a gossip magazine, of all things, on her step bright and early in the morning. She hadn't asked the hotel to deliver her any publications, news or otherwise. Maybe it was just a mix up.

"You still haven't given me a definite response yet Quinn. I think your inability to give me any concise answers is a sign that you're being duplicitous," David says.

"I'm not the only passenger on the avoidance train, David. So unless this is going to be a two way confessional, I'd appreciate you not disrupting the tranquillity of my off day."

Quinn places her earbuds in her ears and closes her eyes, effectively tuning David out. Now if only it were that easy to tune out her thoughts of Santana.

...

Santana's phone buzzes. She picks it up and sees she has a text from Brittany.

"**_I see you got yourself a new little girlfriend_**," it reads.

"What are you talking about?" Santana texts back.

"**_Pictures of you and Quinn Fabray traipsing all over town"_**

"How did you get this number?"

"**_Not important."_**

"What or who I do is no longer your business"

"**_No matter how pretty or blonde she is, she'll never be me"_**

Santana angrily tosses her phone onto the bed. How is it that every altercation with Brittany causes her to want to break things. She looks at her copy of the National Inquirer.

"Damn paps are vultures," she grumbles.

Santana flips through the pages, fondly remembering what was happening when each one of them was taken. Based on the photos alone, it would certainly look like she and Quinn were hooking up. If Santana had it her way, she's be wrapped around Quinn every waking moment of every day. Unfortunately, Quinn had herself a boyfriend. A sketchy one, no less. From the moment Santana met the dude, she knew something was off. She looks at the picture of the two of them dancing at her club appearance and smiles. David had to be either dumb or dense not to know something was going on between her and Quinn. Either way, he was about to receive a rude awakening. Thanks to a friend of a friend, Santana had found out about the story the tabloid was running. She was able to get an early copy delivered to Quinn. The paparazzi might have been privacy violating whores, but they did serve a purpose from time to time.

"Wait until Harry Potter gets a load of this," Santana chuckles.

...

Santana makes it to the studio bright and early Monday morning. She's excited to work and anxious to see Quinn. She spies David and Quinn at the Craft Services table. She decides to go over and say hello.

"Good morning Miss Fabray, Harry," she says.

"Good morning Santana," Quinn replies.

"My name isn't Harry," David hisses.

"Oh I'm well aware of what your name is," Santana says.

It's evident to Santana by the scowl that David is sporting that he and Quinn must have seen the tabloid. He looks pissed off and she couldn't be more pleased. She grabs a plate and starts to load it with fruit.

"Oh, stealing moments just to be with you. Though it's wrong, it's hard to tell the truth. Oh no, he don't have to know," Santana sings.

Quinn's eyes widen.

"What did you just say?" David snaps.

"Oh I was singing a song. John Legend. Perhaps you've heard of him," Santana answers.

"Did you want some more bacon David?" Quinn asks.

She's anxious to change the subject. It's obvious to her that Santana is purposefully antagonizing him.

"So Harry, I mean David, I don't believe you've ever told me what you do," Santana says.

"I'm the head of the drama department at Yale."

"Yale. Really? Quinn isn't that where you went?" Santana asks.

"Yes," Quinn answers shortly.

"Is that how you two met?" Santana asks David.

"It is," he confirms.

"So do you make a habit of preying on young, impressionable co-eds?"

"Santana!" Quinn hollers.

"Not that its any of your business, but Quinn is the only student I ever dated. I didn't intend for things to progress the way they did, but there's something magnetic about her that draws you in. Wouldn't you agree?" David says.

Santana blatantly allows her eyes to roam over Quinn's body. It had been weeks since they touched, but the memory was still fresh in her mind. Santana could tell it was still fresh in Quinn's mind as well by the way she started to blush.

"I completely understand David," Santana agrees.

The trio finds a spot to sit. They all tuck into their food before conversation begins up again.

"Quinn, you went to Yale about ten years ago, right?" Santana asks.

Quinn nods since her mouth is full of food.

"Pardon me for being frank, but why haven't you married her yet?" Santana asks David.

Quinn nearly chokes on the bite she is trying to swallow. She grabs a napkin and coughs loudly a few times, clearing the morsel out of her windpipe.

"Excuse me?" David asks.

"All I'm saying is if I had a woman like Quinn Fabray, I'd marry her the first chance I got."

"The thing is, you don't have a woman like Quinn Fabray because she's mine," David answers.

Santana's nostrils flare and she can feel her inner Snixx starting to take over.

"Come Quinn. Let's finish our meal in your trailer where we can have a modicum of privacy."

David stands abruptly to leave. Quinn gives Santana an apologetic look and scurries off behind him.

...

"David what you did was rude and inconsiderate," Quinn chastises.

"I was rude? She was the one making inappropriate remarks about the nature of our relationship," he says.

"I don't think they were too far off the mark," Quinn says.

"Q you can't possibly be siding with her."

"Why are you here David?" Quinn asks.

"I told you, to prove my love to you," he states.

"Where does you're wife think you are?" Quinn inquires.

"Q."

"Where does your wife think you are David?" Quinn reiterates.

The level of Quinn's voice keeps dramatically raising as the seconds pass. David sighs. He knows this conversation can only end one way. Badly.

"She thinks I'm being head hunted for a job at Stanford," he admits.

Quinn laughs in spite of herself.

"I think it's time for you to go back to New York," she says.

"Q you can't be serious."

"David I need some time and space to think and I can't do that with you here."

David stands straight and tall. He can't help the sinking feeling that this is the beginning of the end. He doesn't want to let Quinn see his fear, so he puts on his best brave face.

"If this is what you want," he begins.

"It is," Quinn confirms.

"Then I'll be going. But do believe me when I say that I really do love you."

David gathers what left he has of his pride and makes an exit.

"Please be gone from the chateau before I return this evening," Quinn says to his retreating form.

David pauses a moment as Quinn's words hit hard. He doesn't respond, instead he continues to walk as a single tear trickles down his cheek.

...

Santana spots Quinn a while later scrolling through her phone. The blonde has a forlorn look on her face. The instant need to console her takes over Santana.

"Something troubling you?" Santana asks.

"Nothing I can't handle," Quinn says.

Quinn turns her attention back to her phone.

"Whatcha doing?" Santana asks.

"Facebook," Quinn responds.

"What? Grandma has a Facebook account? That you actually post things to yourself?" Santana teases.

"For your information, I've had a Facebook account before it was even cool to be on Facebook. And I have a Twitter as well," Quinn boasts.

"Look at you Miss Social Media Savvy. I'm going to have to follow and friend request you now."

Quinn smiles a little, tickled by Santana's teasing tone.

"David thinks it's silly, but I like having an outlet to be able to talk to my fans directly," Quinn says.

"Speaking of, where has ole Davie gotten off to?" Santana asks.

"He's gone," Quinn says.

"Oh?"

"Back to New York," Quinn elaborates.

"Oh!"

"Try not to sound so happy about it," Quinn chuckles.

"He's an ass and you deserve so much better," Santana says.

"Santana you hardly know him," Quinn defends.

"I know that the ring finger on his left hand is glaringly occupied," she says.

"Santana," Quinn starts.

"Hey I'm not trying to be all up in your business. To each her own. I just know what your worth is and I'm willing to bet my life that he doesn't. I'm willing to bet that you don't either."

Quinn looks away, feeling extremely exposed at the moment. Santana caresses her cheek, bringing Quinn's eyes back to hers. Quinn has no idea how Santana knows her truth. It's like she can see right through Quinn to her very essence. The intensity of the moment is broken up by the sound of Santana's phone.

"Talk to me Puckerman," Santana answers.

She listens intently for a few seconds until she starts to swear. Quinn is only privy to one side of the conversation, but she can tell it isn't a good one.

"Everything okay?" Quinn asks.

"No. I'm supposed to be shooting my music video, but I'm having some issues," Santana trails off.

She stops in the middle of her sentence and just looks at Quinn. She gets a devious look on her face and Quinn can feel herself getting nervous.

"What?" Quinn asks.

"What are you doing later today?"

"Nothing," Quinn answers hesitantly.

"How would you like to star in my music video? Now before you say no, the concept for the video is tasteful and classy. You would be doing me a huge solid and I would owe you forever after this," Santana rambles off.

"Sure, it sounds like fun," Quinn says.

"Yes!" Santana exclaims.

"So when is this video shoot taking place?" Quinn asks.

"This afternoon."

"This afternoon!" Quinn exclaims.

"Is there an echo in here? Yes this afternoon. As in today. Hoy."

"Who plans to shoot a video, while they're shooting a movie?" Quinn questions.

"Umm, I do. My buzz is hot and I don't have any time to waste. I have to get while the getting's good. Strike while the iron is hot. Yadda, yadda, yadda and all that other bullshit," Santana explains.

"This is going to consume my entire day, isn't it? You're really cutting into my beauty sleep," Quinn gripes.

"Who needs sleep? You can sleep when you die. Besides, if you got anymore beautiful Quinn Fabray, the world might literally explode."

Santana winks at Quinn before she walks off to call Noah back. Quinn can feel herself grinning like an idiot from Santana's compliment.

...

Santana's SUV pulls to a stop outside of the soundstage. There's a throng of fans waiting around, hoping to get a glimpse of her. Tank comes around to open her door. Santana hops out to the sound of a few dozen screams.

"Santana!"

"Santana you're so sexy!"

"Santana have my baby!"

Santana laughs. She offers Quinn her hand and assists her getting out of the vehicle.

"Oh my gosh, is that Quinn Fabray!"

"Quinn, Quinn!"

"Quinn I love you!"

Quinn smiles and waves. She quickly follows behind Santana as they step into the building.

"I don't know how they always find out where I'm going to be. Even when I'm trying to be discreet, I show up somewhere to a crowd of people," Santana says.

"The gift and the curse of the Information Age," Quinn comments.

They make their way further inside and are immediately greeted by a man whom Quinn assumes is the director.

"Snixx baby what's good?" he says.

They share a brief hug. Santana steps aside to introduce Quinn, but Antonio beats her to the punch.

"Quinn Fabray, I'm Antonio. It is an honor to have you be apart of my shoot today."

Antonio does a little bow like he's in the presence of royalty.

"It's nice to meet you as well," Quinn says.

Santana slaps him in the chest.

"Cut the shit Antonio," she says.

"I don't know who you had to sell your soul to in order to get Miss Fabray to do this, but it was definitely a soul well spent. I've seen everyone of your movies. Even the obscure ones," Antonio enthuses.

Quinn just smiles graciously.

"Can you stop fan-boying out for two seconds so we can get some work done?" Santana says.

"Aw I think somebody is jealous that someone else is getting more attention than she is," Antonio taunts.

Quinn laughs at the friendly back and forth between the two.

"Whatever. Point me in the direction of hair and makeup. Let's get this show on the road."

...

"Okay, let's try it again from the top. And five, six, seven, eight."

After spending a good two hours getting dolled up, Santana is ready to start shooting. She walks to the first setup feeling good. That's until she notices Brittany on the sound stage.

"No. No. Hell no! What is she doing here? Where is Fatima? Why are you here?" Santana rattles off.

"The label called me. Fatima couldn't make it, so I'm filling in," Brittany answers.

"You don't even know the choreography," Santana starts.

"I watched your rehearsal videos. I know all of the steps," Brittany counters.

"So what! If you're here, I'm not doing this. Find somebody else," Santana demands.

"We can't get anyone else on such short notice. We have to get this done now. You're going to have to work with her," Antonio reasons.

Santana knows he's right, but doesn't like it in the least. She lets out a half growl, half yell hoping to discharge all her irritation with it.

"Fine. But if she steps an inch out of line, I'm done. Record company be damned."

Everyone takes their places and gets ready for the first shot. The music starts to play and Santana and the dancers come in on cue. They do the routine but something is off.

"Cut!" Antonio yells.

Santana looks confused as to why Antonio stopped the shot. She was sure she hit all of her moves flawlessly. Brittany hustles over to Santana ready to offer some assistance.

"You're doing that move all wrong," Brittany critiques.

"No I'm not. That's the way we rehearsed it," she says through gritted teeth.

"Yes you are," Brittany restates.

She moves behind Santana and places her hand on her hips.

"You're rolling like this, when you should be doing it like this."

Brittany demonstrates the move, getting closer to Santana than is necessary. Santana feels her encroaching on her space and quickly moves away.

"Okay I got it," she says.

"Alright then. Roll back. And action."

The music starts again. Santana starts to dance again and bumps into one of the dancers.

"Cut!" Antonio yells again.

Quinn, who had ran into an old acquaintance, wanders over to a chair and takes a seat. She sees the all too familiar look on Santana's face and can tell she's on the brink of frustration.

"Snixx what's the problem? I thought you said you had it," Antonio says.

"I do. It's these damn backup dancers. They're throwing me off," Santana explains.

"Everyone clear out!" Antonio shouts.

The dancers grumble, but make a hasty exit from the stage.

"It's all you Snixx. Do your thing."

Antonio cues for the music to start again. Santana stands in place, nodding her head to the beat, waiting for her part to come in.

Baby,

Does he do it for you

When he's finished, does he step back, and adore you

I just gotta know,

'Cause your time is money and I won't let him

Waste it, oh no, no

Santana starts to dance. Her steps are precise, but fluid and feminine at the same time. She moves so gracefully around the stage. It's like she's gliding her movements are so effortless. Quinn is once again entranced by a dancing Santana.

Baby,

Just go with it

'Cause when you're with me, I can't explain it,

It's just different

We can take it slow

Or act like you're my girl let's skip the basics,

Oh woah

"Cut! Yes! See that right there is exactly what I'm talking about!" Antonio proclaims.

Santana does a little curtsy,all too pleased with herself. Quinn just shakes her head and laughs.

"That's because you needed to stand back and let me do me. You know when you give me the space, I'm going to make it do what it do."

Santana struts over to Quinn. Quinn smiles at the cocky air Santana has about herself.

"What did you think?" Santana asks.

"I'm knew you could dance, but you continuously surprise and impress me," Quinn answers.

"Good. I like to keep you on your toes. Can't have you getting bored with me," Santana flirts.

"Alright people lets keep it moving. Someone get Miss Fabray to hair and makeup please," Antonio directs.

...

Quinn is ushered into hair and makeup. The make up artist gushes over the the fact that she is doing Quinn Fabray's face. Quinn smiles and chats with the animated woman. She rants and raves over how beautiful Quinn is and comments how she doesn't need makeup at all. They talk about movies and she tries to get the inside scoop on Santana. The woman asks Quinn if they really are seeing each other. Quinn denies the claim, explaining that it's just gossip fodder. After an hour and a half of being beautified, Quinn steps onto the set.

"Wow!" Santana exclaims.

Quinn is dressed in a satiny flowing top, shorts and a pair of stilettos. Her legs are glistening and look like silk. Santana smiles and extends her hand for Quinn to take. Quinn does a little spin while Santana takes her in.

"You look sensational," Santana says.

The director takes them over to setup the shot.

"Quinn, all I need you to do is stand here and be beautiful. Santana you're going to work your magic and serenade her. I want you to act like she's the most gorgeous woman you've ever seen."

"That won't be a stretch at all," Santana says.

They take their places and get ready for the music to start. Quinn leans against the brick wall that's the back drop for the shot. She's looking away, seemingly uninterested. The music starts and Santana begins to do her thing.

Favorite,

You're my favorite

It's like all the girls around me don't have faces

And the saying goes

Life is just a game but I'm not playin'

Woah oh

Santana is standing in front of Quinn, one hand placed on the wall just over Quinn's shoulder. As she sings to her she runs her finger along Quinn's jaw. Quinn is still staring off in the distance, pretending to not be interested in Santana's attention.

He's so replaceable

You're worth the chase, you're putting on

Quinn turns her head to make eye contact with Santana. Santana leans in so close that her and Quinn's lips almost touch.

It's alright, I'm not dangerous

When you're mine, I'll be generous

You're irreplaceable

A collectible,

Just like fine china

Santana does a spin and starts to dance around Quinn. Quinn stays against the wall, but moves her body sexily to the beat. Santana moves so smoothly around her, always maintaining eye contact. She winks at Quinn and does one more spin. Then she grabs Quinn's waist and does a little grinding move on her.

"Cut," the director yells.

The music stops and Quinn and Santana stay in position, neither one wanting to move.

"Beautiful, ladies. That was perfect. You two sizzle together."

"It's easy to do when you like who you're working with," Santana comments.

She holds onto Quinn one second longer before she releases her.

"Alright Santana, this is what I want to do in the next shot."

Antonio takes Santana over to another part of the sound stage to setup the next scene. Quinn takes a seat out of the way, still wanting to watch Santana work.

"You guys looked really good out there."

Quinn looks over her shoulder to find Brittany standing there. She didn't know the woman personally, but she was familiar with who she was. Who didn't know who Brittany S. Pierce was. She did choreography for all the greats. What Quinn wasn't aware of was her past with Santana.

"Thanks. We have good chemistry," Quinn says.

"You do. You know she'll never love you right?" Brittany says.

"Wait, beg your pardon?" Quinn says.

She turns all the way to face the woman head on. The look in Brittany's eyes tells Quinn that she's trying to stake her claim.

"You know she made a whole album about me," Brittany continues.

"I don't understand," Quinn says.

"I'm trying to explain to you that no matter how open and affectionate Santana might seem, she's emotionally unavailable."

"We're just colleagues," Quinn explains.

"We were just colleagues, too. But Santana has this way of just getting into your heart and staying there."

Quinn didn't respond to Brittany's comment, but she was very familiar with the feeling. Santana had invaded the majority of her thoughts since the moment they met.

"I see the way she looks at you. The way she responds when you enter a room. Hell, all you have to do is look at a picture of the both of you together. I know she wants you. I'm willing to bet that she probably even cares about you. But she's mine. Always has been and always will be. So she'll have her fun, but when she's done, she'll come right back home to momma."

Quinn stands and faces Brittany, toe to toe. She's glad she still has her heels on so that the taller woman's height advantage is minimal. She was never one to fight over a person, especially someone who wasn't hers, but she didn't like what Brittany was implying.

"Is that so? Then why did Santana just say today that she would marry me the first chance she got?" Quinn taunts.

She can see the fire building in Brittany's eyes, but she doesn't care. She needed to be taken down a notch. Brittany takes a step closer into Quinn's personal space. Quinn isn't intimidated and doesn't move.

"I suggest that you take a step back and walk away before I become very uncouth," Quinn says.

Brittany gives her one last menacing look before she huffs and storms off. Quinn sits back in her chair, wondering where in the world all of that came from.

...

A few days later, Quinn is called to the production office. She's strolling in and bumps into Santana along the way.

"Hey you," she says.

"Hey," Santana responds.

"I see you've been summoned as well," Quinn says.

"Yep. I wonder what all of this is about?"

The two enter a conference room to find Artie, a couple executives and a woman they've never met before all gathered around a table. They're all watching a rough cut of Santana's music video.

"Ladies, how lovely of you to join us. Please do sit down," one of the execs says.

Quinn and Santana eye the assembly skeptically before they take their seats.

"Ladies this is Jenny Schecter. She's the writer of the screenplay," Artie explains.

Santana and Quinn both put a hand out for Jenny to shake. She instead just looks at their hands and smiles.

"Mm, charmed," Jenny says.

"We just viewed you're new video and it looks outstanding. Very nicely done Miss Lopez," another exec starts.

"Umm thanks," Santana says.

"And Quinn, you were breath taking. Who knew you two could sizzle like that together."

The two share a smile and Santana gives Quinn a sly wink.

"It's that sizzle, that spark, that fire that has caused us to call this meeting here today," the first exec says.

"We want to change the direction of the film," Artie chimes in.

Everyone was talking so quickly that it was getting kind of hard for Santana to keep up. All she knows is that she heard they're trying to mess with her movie.

"Hold up, you guys didn't bring us here to tell us that one of us is getting booted and you're bringing in some straight laced heartthrob to replace us. Cause if you are, I'm not having it," Santana says.

"Quite the opposite. We want to change the movie from a buddy film into a rom com."

"I'm sorry, come again?" Quinn says.

"Miss Fabray, we've seen the chemistry between you two. Not to mention the pictures in the tabloids."

"Which are pure speculation," Quinn interjects.

"None the less, the public loves a juice story. The girl next door is seduced by the sexy bombshell."

"I didn't seduce her," Santana mumbles.

"Why not give the public what they want and let the romance play out on the big screen."

"But there's no romance to play out. Again, it's all speculation," Quinn repeats.

No one in the room seems to be paying attention to, or caring, what Quinn is saying.

"Jenny here has been so kind as to offer her service to do the rewrites. They will take about a week to get done. We'll see everyone back on set then."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here you go my lovelies. Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter. Special shoutout to the guest reviewer who caught my L Word reference. I love when you guys catch the random things I throw in from time to time. Also, I try to update as much as possible, but I prefer to give you quality over quantity. I only write when my muse is speaking. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

**...**

"They're turning it into a freaking rom com Danny," Quinn barks into her phone.

Quinn is pacing the length of her trailer.

"Ok so you'll have to make out with her a little. You don't have a problem with that right?"

If Danny only knew the half if it.

"No I don't have a problem with it," she responds.

"Then what is the problem, Quinn? You're obviously upset about something."

"I'm upset because this isn't what I sighed up for," she explains.

"Q you know the nature of this business. Rewrites happen all of the time. You just have to roll with the punches. And there was a no nudity clause in your contract. I'm sure they'll keep the romantic parts of the movie pretty PG-13. So you have nothing to worry about."

But it wasn't the possibility of nakedness that had Quinn worried. It's was the having to act like she was in love with Santana Lopez. Quinn feared that at some point the lines between make believe and reality were going to blur. She could already start to feel the subtle shift between them. It had only been a few days since the video shoot, but Quinn was already captivated by the charm that Santana seemed to exude from her pores. How was Quinn going to combat against the pull she was starting to feel when she would have to portray someone who was romantically interested in her. Without David there to act as a buffer, Quinn knew she was in trouble.

"Quinn did you hear anything I just said?" Danny asks.

"Of course I did. Hey what do you know about Santana and Brittany?" she probes.

"Brittany S. Pierce? The choreographer?" Danny asks.

"Mm hmm."

"I know that she and Santana were quite the item a while back. I don't know why they broke up, but rumor has it that it was an ugly one," Danny explains.

"Hmm," Quinn replies.

"Any particular reason you asked that question?"

"No, no reason. Hey do you think you could get me a copy of Santana's first album?" she asks.

"Sure thing Quinn, I'll have it sent over first thing in the morning."

"Have it sent to my penthouse. And could you get me a flight? We have some time off while the rewrites are being done. I want yo come home for a little while."

"When did you want to leave?" Danny asks.

"First thing in the morning if you please."

"Consider it done. I'll see you soon."

...

Santana had shown up at the label an hour and a half ago. This was one of the last couple of meetings to finalize her up coming album. They were supposed to be discussing things like the final track list and potential tour dates. Instead, it had turned into a meeting of things that bored Santana to death. She opted to be silent for this portion of the discussion. Noah could wade through all the bureaucratic red tape alone. It was always the one part of the business she had little patience for. She had been tuning in and out for the last twenty minutes, making sure she wasn't missing anything pertinent. What did have her undivided attention at the present time was her Twitter timeline. People had noticed that she had started to follow Quinn and it was causing an uproar. Santana is highly entertained by the commotion. She swivels back and forth and giggles at all the outlandish things people are saying. Santana shoots Quinn a quick text.

"We might break Twitter today," it reads.

It had been two days since production had been shut down due to the rewrites. Quinn had high tailed it back to New York on the first thing smoking. Santana was willing to admit that she was more than a little disappointed that the blonde hadn't stayed around. She was looking forward to spending time with Quinn outside of their professional obligations. Ever since the video shoot, Santana could see some of the bricks in the wall Quinn had built around herself slowly starting to fall. She didn't want to lose the connection that was forming between the two of them. So Santana had been texting Quinn daily. Even if it was something as simple as 'Good morning' or 'Good night'. Anything to let Quinn know that she was on Santana's mind.

"**What are you talking about?**" Quinn texts.

"Check your tl and text me back."

"Oh and a tl is your timeline grandma."

Santana makes sure to add an emoticon that's sticking it's tongue out in the last message. She sits back with a smirk, waiting for the smart ass reply she knows Quinn is going to send. Her phone buzzes, but it's a message from Mercedes.

"**What are you doing?"** Mercedes texts.

"Sitting in a boring ass label meeting with record execs."

"**Better you than me. I'll pray your strength**."

"What's up?"

"**Wanna get lunch later?**"

"Sure let me know when and where."

Santana places her phone down and looks up when she hears the label head start to speak.

"And we don't feel comfortable releasing the album as it currently is," Lyor says.

She is glad that she chose this particular moment to tune back in.

"Why the hell not?" Santana asks.

"We feel like your fans won't be receptive to your new image. They like brash, in your face Santana. We don't think this demure version of you is going to sell records," he elaborates.

The group, with the exception of Noah, collectively nod their heads in agreement. Santana jumps up to defend herself.

"For your information, I have made all of you a shit load of money. I think I've earned the right to do my music, my way. Besides what would any of you stuffed shirts know about what my audience would like?"

Noah grabs Santana's wrist and pulls her to sit back down. He can see the rage rolling off of her and would like to avoid a blow up if he can.

"I think what Santana is trying to say is that she has more than proven her star power and should be allowed the chance to express her creativity without compromising her artistic integrity any longer," Noah says.

"No Puckerman I said it right the first time," Santana interjects.

"You feel your integrity is being compromised?" another exec inquires.

"Oh don't act so surprised Jimmy. As long as I'm prancing around with my ass half out and singing the raunchiest things alive everything is okay. The minute I want to put some clothes on and do something with some real significance, it's a problem."

"Santana, need I remind you, you're the one who wrote most of those quote, unquote 'raunchy' songs you sing," Lyor says.

"That's because you sold me on the idea that in order to get a following, I'd have to appeal to the libido of the heterosexual male. That once I had a decent fan base, then I could do music my way. Well guess what? I sell out arenas faster than you can blink. I consistently have multiple singles on the charts. Men, women, children cry hysterically and pass out when they see me. I would say that's pretty decent. I want my turn now."

"Miss Lopez you have to be wiling to compromise here. We have been more than accommodating to you," Jimmy says.

"And how do you figure you've accommodated me in anyway?" Santana asks.

"We let you do this little pet project in the midst of your album release. The time you've been doing this movie is time you could be spending doing promotional things, but we recognize how important this movie is to you. Because we value you, we want you to be able to pursue all of your interest," Lyor chimes in.

"You let me do the movie? Let's get one thing straight, nobody lets Santana Lopez doing anything. I'm a grown ass woman and I do what I want!"

Santana stands again, this time to take her leave.

"Santana, this meeting isn't over," Lyor calls out.

"Yes it is. This meeting is a crock and I'm not going to sit here another second when I have more important places I need to be."

Santana storms out, making sure to leave a trail of expletives in her wake.

...

Santana arrives for lunch with Mercedes, her anger from the meeting still simmering. Before her vehicle can even come to a complete stop, she spies about two dozen paparazzi ready to swarm her. She lowers her shades over her eyes and prepares for the storm.

"_Santana what is your relationship with Quinn Fabray?_"

"_Why isn't Quinn here now?_"

"_Is Quinn okay with you dating other women?"_

Santana ignores the barrage of questions and makes her way to her lunch date. Mercedes has picked a prime spot on the patio to dine. Unfortunately it's also a perfect place for the paps to take advantage of this photo opportunity.

"Hey Maggie how are you?" Santana says.

Santana gives Mercedes' assistant, Maggie, a hug.

"Hope you don't mind me crashing you guys lunch. Mercedes mentioned coming to see you and I couldn't pass on the opportunity. It's been too long," Maggie explains.

"Girl please. I'm paying for lunch so Santana has no say in who gets to tag along."

Santana leans over to kiss Mercedes's cheek.

"Nice to see you too Cedes," she says.

The server comes to get the ladies' orders. With their dining decisions made, they all move on to a more interesting topics. Half way through the second course, Maggie steps away to take a phone call.

"So you and Lucy Fabray have been gallivanting all around town I see," Mercedes says.

"You sound just like Brittany," Santana comments.

"You know she called me."

Santana's eyebrow raises.

"Oh word?" she says.

"Mm hmm."

"What did she want?" Santana asks.

"To know all of your tea. How long you and Lucy have been dating? How serious are you two? How long have I known? Why didn't I tell her sooner?"

"And what did you tell her?" Santana questions.

"Not a damn thing. Brittany knows the rules. I'm your friend and I'm her friend. So that means I do not dish about one to the other."

Santana smiles at Mercedes, grateful for her loyalty. It was rare nowadays to find someone with her character.

"Besides, I'm not sure if there's anything to tell. As far as I know, Lucy is straight and you're pining away for someone you can't have," Mercedes adds.

"Quinn is a lot of things, but straight is not one of them."

"Just because she had sex with you doesn't mean she plays for your team. I know plenty of women who are Santana-sexuals," Mercedes says.

"That's even better. I don't want her to be attracted to other women, I just need her to be attracted to me."

"What are your intentions with Lucy?" Mercedes asks.

"I assure you that my motives are pure," Santana answers.

"Please be absolutely sure before you proceed any further with her. If you're pursuing her because you feel like she's some unattainable goal to conquer, then just leave her alone. I don't want you to get her, then break her heart because you're bored after the excitement of the chase has worn off. Lucy has already had a lifetime worth of heartache. She's good people and deserves to be treated as such," Mercedes warns.

"Mercedes I swear to you all I want is the chance to love and be loved by her," Santana admits.

Before Mercedes can comment, Maggie returns to the table.

"Sorry about that. What did I miss?" she asks.

"Not much," Mercedes answers.

"So Cedes, how have you and Trouty Mouth been doing?" Santana asks.

"Santana why must you insist on calling my man that?" Mercedes bristles.

"Why must you insist on dating someone who's lips make him look like he needs to be broiled and paired with a nice Sauvignon Blanc?" Santana counters.

"He does have a wide mouth though," Maggie comments.

Mercedes turns to Maggie.

"You, shut it," she says.

She returns her attention to Santana.

"And you are just jealous because the blonde in my life actually wants and desires me," she teases.

"Aww Mercedes that was low," Santana says.

"You mad or nah?" Mercedes asks.

Santana opens her mouth to speak, but Mercedes silences her with a finger.

"Speaking of, that's my big lipped baby calling me now. Excuse me while I take this."

Mercedes steps away to take her call. Conversation continues at the table without her. Santana and Maggie catch up on the goings on in each other's lives since the last time that they had spoken. They laugh and share friendly touches. Mercedes returns with a megawatt grin on her face.

"I don't even want to know why you're cheesing so hard," Santana says.

Mercedes sticks out her tongue at Santana and takes her seat.

"So how was your meeting?" Mercedes asks.

"Absolute shit. The label is trying to jerk me around. They claim that they don't think my new record will sell as is. They want me to record a couple new songs," Santana fumes.

"What is wrong with the way it is now?" Maggie asks.

"Apparently it's too much substance and not enough sex," Santana huffs.

"But isn't selling sex kind of what you do?" Maggie points out.

"As a means to an end. I was promised to eventually be able to make the music I wanted to make. Now they're backing out on me."

"In the mean time, you can keep writing musical gold for me," Mercedes smiles.

"So damn selfish," Santana jokes.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. You always do," Maggie assures.

The trio finish off their lunch. Santana leaves feeling lighter and more at ease than when she had arrived.

...

_Not really sure how to feel about it_

_Something in the way you move_

_Makes me feel like I can't live without you_

_It takes me all the way_

_I want you to stay_

Quinn had finally gotten her copy of Santana's first album. She had listened to it a few times now, dissecting each song trying to decipher their deeper meaning. She had listened to 'Regret', 'Before I Ever Met You', 'Epiphany' and 'The Worst'. They, like the majority of the album, had the angry woman vibe Quinn expected from Santana. The song that intrigued her the most was the one she currently had on repeat.

_Ohhhh the reason I hold on_

_Ohhhh cause I need this hole gone_

_Funny you're the broken one_

_But I'm the only one who needed saving_

_Cause when you never see the light_

_It's hard to know which one of us is caving_

It was a simple song. Just a piano and Santana's beautiful voice. It was filled with so much lost and pain. The first time Quinn listened to it, she was moved to tears. Every time Quinn heard it, she had the simultaneous urges to hold Santana close to her and slap Brittany. The thing that Quinn felt most was the desire to want to know the Santana who wrote this. Not the sad, heartbroken Santana, but the Santana that loved so freely and deeply that losing Brittany's love wounded her to her core. What had Brittany done to her Santana? Her Santana? Quinn shook her head. Did she really just think of Santana as hers? Quinn attributed it to the extra attention Santana had been lavishing on her. Ever since she had left L.A., Santana was being very charming. Quinn thought again. Charming wasn't the word she was looking for. Endearing seemed to suit Santana better. She had been doing everything to keep herself in the forefront of Quinn's mind. They texted often. Sometimes they were just simple greetings. Others were playfully teasing. More often than not, the messages were very flirty between the two. It came so naturally to Quinn that half of the time she didn't even realize she was doing it. She stares out at the New York City streets as she passes them by. Its supposedly spring, but you wouldn't be able to tell by looking outside. It's another dreary day and her mood seems to match the weather the longer she is home. She had come back to New York with the hopes of getting some clarity. She had figured that in regards to her burgeoning feelings for Santana, out of sight would be out of mind. That was certainly not the case. If anything, absence was making the heart grow fonder. Quinn hated to admit it, but she honestly missed her feisty co-star. She had grown used to seeing her regularly and not being in her presence had thrown her a bit off kilter. Quinn sighs and temporarily pushes thoughts of Santana to the side. She had a more pressing matter to deal with at the moment.

...

Quinn arrives at her family's home later that day. After spending a couple days checking on things at home, she elected to spend some time with her mother. The town car pulls around the circular drive and comes to a stop just as Quinn's brother, Russell Jr., opens the door.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," she calls to him.

The pair were never really close. The only bond they shared was genetic. They give each other an awkward hug that seems to be more of a forced formality than an actual show of affection.

"I was just coming by to check on mother. I thought you were in California shooting a movie," he says.

"I am, but we received some unexpected free time. I decided to come home and spend what time I could with mother," Quinn explains.

Quinn pays the driver and Russell Jr. walks her inside.

"Christina and I will have to have you over for dinner before you leave. I know it's been ages since you've seen the children."

"That sounds wonderful Russell. I will let you know when I'm free."

They give each other another uncomfortable embrace before Russell leaves. Quinn closes the door. She takes a look around. It had been awhile since she had set foot in this house. It wasn't the home she grew up in,but the emotions that surfaced when ever she was in the familial residence were still ever present. Quinn took her time seeking her parents out to alert them that she had arrived. Instead, she strolled around to see what changes had been made since the last time she was here. She couldn't help but notice that there were decidedly fewer trinkets and knick knacks about. Her father was always one to showboat. Quick to boast about the new, rare whatever that he was able to acquire. It was definitely out of the norm for them to not be out, proudly on display. Satisfied that she had seen enough, Quinn went in search of her mother. She found her in the sitting room, entranced by the television. Quinn knocked softly on the door frame so as not to startle her.

"Quinnie, what are you doing here?" Judy exclaims.

She beams so brightly at Quinn.

"Surprise," Quinn says.

Judy Fabray grabs her daughter and hugs her tightly. Quinn returns the gesture with an equal amount of enthusiasm. They stay that way for a long while before Judy finally lets Quinn go.

"Stand back. Let me look at you," Judy says.

As Judy appraises her daughter, the younger woman does the same. Quinn notices the pallor of her mother's skin. It almost looks ashen. There's dark circles under her eyes and she's extremely thin. The beautiful blonde hair that Quinn had come to associate her mother with was nowhere to be seen. Instead a silk scarf covered the older woman's head. Quinn's heart broke at what the illness was doing to her once vibrant mother's outter appearance.

"You look different Quinnie. Good different, but different all the same. California seems to suit you," Judy assesses.

"You could say that," Quinn answers shyly.

"Or is it someone in California that seems to suit you?" Judy asks.

Quinn blushes furiously. She hadn't even admitted to herself yet what she was feeling. How did her mother seem to see right through her?

"I have nothing to do but sit home alone and watch television all day. TMZ, Entertainment Tonight, E! News. They all seem to be running some interesting stories about you lately," Judy explains, as if she's reading Quinn's mind.

"Why are you home alone? Where is father at?" Quinn asks.

"Sweetie you know you're father has been having a tough time."

Russell Sr. had been a big shot on Wall Street. He was a partner in a brokerage firm until a couple of bad investments caused the firm to go bankrupt. He had never really recovered from the setback and had been struggling financially ever since. Quinn had taken on the brunt of the fiscal responsibilities for her parents.

"He's having a tough time? That's a cop out and you and I both know it. He's not the one who's terminally ill. He should be the one who's taking care of you. Not the other way around!" Quinn says incredulously.

"Quinnie I don't want to talk about your father right now. I'd much rather talk about Santana Lopez," Judy says.

Quinn's already frowning face turns into a scowl. The last thing she wants to do is process her feelings for Santana. And with her mother of all people. Judy sees Quinn's displeasure at the topic of conversation but doesn't much care.

"So tell me about her. What is she like?" Judy inquires.

"She is everything and nothing you would expect her to be," Quinn says.

"How so?" Judy asks.

"She's arrogant and vulgar and a tad bit misogynistic. But at the same time she's kind and thoughtful and dare I say sensitive. She is truly a walking, talking contradiction."

Judy laughs at Quinn's description.

"I gather the two of you have been getting friendly with each other," Judy says.

Quinn can feel the heat on her face, pretty sure what her mother is implying.

"You guys seem to be spending a lot of time together. I've seen quite a few pictures of you out and about. I would assume a nice friendship is blooming. I mean, it would be hard to be around someone as much as you and her are around each other and not at least be cordial," Judy clarifies.

"Oh, umm, yeah we have a nice working relationship with each other."

"Glad to hear it dear," Judy says.

She doesn't believe for a second that Quinn's relationship with Santana is purely professional. She saw the blush that quickly appeared on Quinn's face a few seconds ago. She also recognized the far away look Quinn got in her eyes when she was describing Santana. Not only that, but the gossip mill had been running amok with stories about the pair. One thing that Judy had learned from her many years in high society was that most rumors had a kernel of truth to them.

"Mom, I'd love for you to come out to L.A. for awhile if you're up to it. The bungalow I'm staying in has more than enough room," Quinn suggests.

"That sounds delightful honey."

"Good. I'll set it up once I get back to California," she says.

"So tell me about your movie again."

...

Quinn and Judy spent a great deal of time catching up before Judy gave into her fatigue. It was already late in the evening and Judy insisted that Quinn stay the night. She was hesitant at first, but when she figured that her father probably wouldn't be home tonight, she soon acquiesced. Quinn helped her mother to bed before she settled into her room. It felt strange sleeping in this house after all of this time. Between Quinn's worry over her mother and growing annoyance with her father, she couldn't get her brain to slow down enough for her to rest. After tossing and turning for thirty minutes, Quinn finally goes in search of a sleeping aid of the liquid variety. She stands in the wine cellar for a while until she finds what she's looking for. Quinn pours a glass and savors the flavor of the fermented grape as it hits her tongue. She grabs her glass and heads back to her room. She turns on the t.v., hoping to find something boring enough to put her to sleep. She's flipping mindlessly when an image of Santana flashes across her screen. Quinn quickly changes the channel back to catch TMZ running a story about her.

"When the cat's away, the mouse will play. It seems as if Santana Lopez and Quinn Fabray's romance is fizzling out already," a reporter says.

Quinn looks at the picture of Santana hugging the pretty blonde woman outside of some L.A. hotspot that's up on the screen.

"She certainly has a type," Quinn mumbles.

"Quinn Fabray is pictured her at LAX supposedly heading back to New York while their movie is on a brief hiatus. Not but a couple days later, Santana is having what appears to be a romantic rendezvous with some woman."

As Harvey and co. drone on about what they think is going on between Santana and the unspecified woman, Quinn is trying to fight the irrational sense of jealousy that's washing over her. On the one hand, she and Santana are nothing more than coworkers. On the other hand, coworkers don't text each other constantly throughout the day. She takes another sip of her wine and continues to watch the story with rapt interest. Were the things Quinn was starting to feel completely one sided? Were the tender sentiments Santana was showing her nothing more than part of her attempt to bed Quinn again? As she mulls over the possibilities, Brittany's words keep running through Quinn's mind.

"_No matter how open and affectionate Santana might seem, she's emotionally unavailable._"

...

It had been two days since Quinn had seen the story and she felt no less settled. If anything, the unjustifiable envy she felt was starting to peak. Santana, unaware to what was going on with the blonde, continued her daily ritual of texting constantly. When she didn't receive the usual prompt response from Quinn, she began to worry. The light and fun messages where soon replaced by 'is everything ok' and 'I hope to hear from you soon'. Quinn received the last text telling her that she was missed and exhaled deeply. She didn't want to ignore Santana, but she was kind of at a lost as what to say to her. She knew she had no right to be upset. Santana was an attractive, available woman. She was free to dine with whomever she chose. Yet, Quinn couldn't seem to get over the betrayal she was feeling. She was in her penthouse, alone again, wandering from room to room. She had rearranged furniture and started to plan some redecorating she wanted to do. Anything to keep her mind off the woman that was currently miles away.

There was only so much decorating that could be done before Quinn starts to crave human contact. She scrolls through her phone in search of someone to keep her occupied. Rachel is out of the country, tour or doing only God knows what. Quinn keeps searching and comes up blank. She's a little disheartened that with the exception of Rachel and Mercedes, she doesn't have any real friends. Sure, there are plenty of people who want to be in her inner circle just to be able to name drop when the need arises, but there isn't really anyone to confide in or share the important parts of her life with. In a moment of weakness, Quinn sends David a quick text.

"Hey I'm home. Do you want to get together?" she texts.

"**Absolutely I can be by in about an hour."**

"Ok see you then."

Exactly sixty minutes later, David is riding the elevator up to Quinn's penthouse. Quinn opens the door and neither one is quite sure how to greet the other. David opens his arms and Quinn allows him to hug her. He embraces her for a long while, not want to let go.

"It feels so good to have you in my arms again," he murmurs.

Quinn stiffens, still at a lost at how she's feeling. They venture into the living room and Quinn sits on the chaise. David sits at her feet, wanting to be within an arms reach of her at all times. He just looks at her, not believing his luck. Quinn allows him to stare, still debating if this was a good idea.

"Not that I'm complain or anything, but why are you home? You said you'd been in L.A. for a few months doing the movie. It's barely been a month and a half," he says.

"The powers that be have decided to change the direction of the movie. We have a little time off while rewrites are being done," Quinn answers.

"They're changing the movie in the middle of production? Is that normal?" he asks.

"It's not as uncommon as you think."

"Do you know what changes are being made?" David inquires.

"Yes, they've decided to make the movie a romantic comedy instead," she answers nonchalantly.

David's whole demeanor changes in a matter of seconds. Quinn watches as his face goes from elation to what she can only describe as anger.

"What do you mean they want to make it a romantic comedy? What on earth would posses them to do that?" he questions.

"They saw the music video we did together and they like our chemistry. Then there's the buzz from all the tabloid coverage," Quinn begins to explain.

"I knew it! I knew it!" he shouts.

David jumps up and starts to pace.

"Well I forbid it. Call Danny and tell him to tell them you're backing out of the movie," David demands.

"You forbid it? Are you serious right now?" Quinn asks.

She looks and David and can tell that he's dead serious. Quinn sighs heavily. She didn't want to get into a confrontation with him. She just wanted to see him before she headed back to L.A. She had to be sure she had made the right decision. Now she had her answer.

"You know what David, I'm glad we've been able to have this conversation. I've been contemplating some things over in my mind about some changes that need to be made in my life. I was unsure about one in particular. Now I know I've come to the right conclusion."

"Q what are you saying?" David asks.

"I'm saying that this relationship has long run its course and I'm not going to do it anymore," Quinn states.

"It's because of Santana isn't it? You have feelings for her," David accuses.

"Santana might have been a catalyst for my decision, but she isn't the reason. I'm doing this for me. I want and deserve more. I'm worth more than being someone's dirty little secret. I deserve someone who's so proud to be with me that they'll shout it from the rooftops," Quinn says.

"Quinn you know I love you, but it's complicated," David responds.

"Then let me uncomplicate it for you. Goodbye David."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hi everyone. This chapter has been driving me crazy. I couldn't get it exactly how I wanted it and it's been holding up the rest of the story. I have three quarters of chapter eight and half of nine already written. I've been working on this one before I even posted chapter six. I final gave up and decided that this is as good as it's going to get. With that being said, this is the longest chapter I have ever written, EVER! Hope you guys like it. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

**...**

"Mercedes let's try it one more time. Maybe this time you could try to give it a little more soul," Santana tease.

Mercedes pulls a face and Santana laughs.

"Just run it back and pay attention to teacher. You might learn something," Mercedes says.

Santana signals to Rico and he starts the song over from the top. They sit at the board and watch Mercedes as she intently listens to the music. When her part comes in, she starts to sing.

_I love it how we chill, I love our conversation_

_I'm dealing with this feeling of infatuation_

_Pacing, don't want to force the situation_

_Waiting for you to make a move, no hesitation_

_I'm thinking maybe this could turn into something more_

_I'm feeling you boy you got me open for sure_

_I'm hoping that the feelings are mutual_

_Trying to hold out cause I want you to know_

Santana woke up this morning feeling utterly inspired. She wrote the song in about an hour and called Mercedes up to see if they could meet at the studio. The second it was done, she knew she had to give it to her friend. She actually wanted to keep it for herself because it was rather personal. She knew if she did that, it would probably never see the light of day. Santana was going to have to settle for Mercedes being her creative outlet for the time being.

_I'm addicted to you_

_When I see you, want to be with you_

_Everything you do_

_All I dream of, when I wake up_

_My every thought is you_

_I'm addicted to you_

_When I see you, want to be with you_

_Everything you do_

_I can't fight it cause I like it_

_My every thought is you_

Although Santana knew she would have sang the hell out of this song, Mercedes' voice more than does it justice. It's sweet and smooth, but powerful when it needs to be. Santana glances over at Rico and sees that he's definitely in to it. He's nodding his head to the music while he plays with some of the switches on the board. Mercedes brings the song home in her grand diva fashion.

"And that, pupils, is how you get it done. Class dismissed," Mercedes smiles.

Santana stands and bows down to Mercedes, as if she's appreciating royalty on their throne. She presses a button so Mercedes can hear what she's saying.

"I'm not worthy. That's why you are the queen and I am but a mere peasant."

Mercedes laughs as she makes her way out of the booth.

"Snixx you have been on a roll lately. I mean everything you write nowadays is straight fire. I don't know where you go to get inspired, but I'm going to need for you to live there from now on," Rico jokes.

"Yes Santana, your inspiration must be amazing," Mercedes agrees.

Santana recognizes the all knowing look she has in her eyes. She takes a seat on the sofa situated in the corner of the room while Rico polishes up the track. She doesn't want him to over hear the conversation she's about to have.

"So," Mercedes starts.

"Mm hmm."

"I want to thank you for blessing me with such a lovely song," Mercedes says.

"You're very welcome. I do what I can," Santana answers casually.

"I must say, the lyrics are very revealing," Mercedes comments.

"Mercedes," Santana warns.

"What? All I'm saying is that your muse as of late seems to be of the blonde haired, hazel eyed variety," Mercedes continues.

"Look, I don't want to keep rehashing my unrequited love for Quinn Fabray with you. So could you give it a rest?" Santana says angrily.

"Whoa there Satan. I was just teasing so you can retract your horns ok."

Santana scrunches her face up at the use of the nickname that her friends often call her when her temper starts to get the best of her.

"What's going on with you?" Mercedes asks.

"I haven't heard from Quinn in three days," Santana says.

Mercedes motions with her hands to Santana that she doesn't see the significance in this.

"We've been in contact with each other constantly every single day since she has been gone. That was until TMZ ran that ludicrous story about me and Maggie," Santana elaborates.

"Oh," Mercedes says, recognition finally dawning on her.

"And now I think she's upset with me."

"So have you tried to explain yourself?" Mercedes asks.

"I have, even though I don't feel that I should have to. She hasn't been accepting any of my calls though."

"Why do you feel like you don't need to explain?"

"Cause she should trust the things that I'm telling her," Santana grumbles.

"Santana I want you to hear me and I want you to hear me good. Usually I don't get involved in the love lives of my friends, especially when they're involved with each other, but I got a lot of love for you and Lucy. Consider this a one time intervention that isn't going to happen again."

"I'm listening," Santana says.

"Lucy has been screwed over by everyone who has supposedly loved her for her entire life. It's hard for her to trust. You're going to have to keep reassuring her and let your actions do the talking."

"Can't she tell how enamored I am with her? I don't pay basic broads this much attention. She should know she's special to me," Santana pouts.

"Honey she doesn't know Santana yet. All she really has seen is a glimpse. She only really knows what the media's impression of you is. We both know that's been less than flattering. I know you're used to booty just falling in your lap. Sorry to tell you, you're going to have to work for this one."

Santana groans, knowing that she is right. Mercedes just chuckles. It had been a long time since she saw Santana flustered over a woman.

"Girl you have got it bad," Mercedes laughs.

"You have no idea."

...

The rewrites for the movie are done after a week as promised. Everyone returns to set that Monday ready to get the project done. Quinn is happy to be back at work, but is dreading seeing Santana. They still hadn't spoken since her romantic rendezvous with the mystery woman. The entire flight back to L.A., Quinn had reasoned with herself that she had no right to be upset. She, once again, told herself that her and Santana just worked together and that it was nothing more. She had even managed to talk herself into believing that she was alright with only having a professional relationship with Santana. That was until Quinn got to set and saw her. Santana is chatting amicably to some of the crew. She is laughing and looked totally care free. Quinn thinks she looks nothing short of breath taking. Santana is telling a joke, when she stops mid sentence and looks up. Her eyes scan across the sound stage, as if she knows that Quinn is in the room. Their eyes connect and the blonde can feel the goosebumps rising on her skin. Whatever pep talk she had given herself, flies out of the window. They just stare at each other. Neither says a word. Neither dares to venture closer. Santana turns to the group she had been talking to and politely excuses herself. Quinn hesitates for only a minute before she's following behind her. She stands outside of Santana's trailer, hand poised to knock on the door. She freezes, fearful of what she's going to encounter on the other side. She has a momentary battle with herself, until her desire to see the other woman face to face soon propels her forth. She raps lightly a few times, waiting for Santana to open the door.

"Hi," Quinn says shyly when Santana finally answers.

"Miss Fabray," Santana says cooly.

"So we're back to that I see."

Santana doesn't respond. Instead she walks back in and leans against a counter, arms folded across her chest. Quinn strolls in behind her, not waiting for an invitation. Santana frowns at Quinn and Quinn returns the glare. Each woman is standing her ground, wanting to see who's going to cave first.

"How was New York?" Santana asks

"Good," Quinn answers flatly.

"Good."

"Good," Quinn says again firmly.

They engage in another silent stare down. Santana's arms remain folded over her chest. Quinn's stance is equally as petulant as Santana's.

"Did you enjoy your down time while you were here?" Quinn asks snidely.

"Actually I worked the whole time. The only free time I had was when I had lunch with Mercedes and Maggie at the beginning of the week," Santana replies.

"Maggie?" Quinn questions.

"Yes Mercedes' assistant Maggie. Blonde, pretty, about yea high," Santana demonstrates.

"Oh," Quinn responds.

Quinn feels stupid when it becomes apparent to her who the blonde in the picture was. She knew the young woman looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place her. She hadn't seen Maggie in years. The last time they had a personal interaction, Maggie was fresh out of college. She was bright eyed and bushy tailed and eager to be working for Mercedes Jones.

"Yes Quinn, I had lunch with the both of them. Why did you automatically jump to the worst conclusion? And when you did, why didn't you give me a chance to explain?" Santana asks, no longer able to maintain her poker face.

"I don't know. I just thought," Quinn starts.

"I know what you just thought. You just thought that you were another name on my list of conquest. Did you ever stop to ask yourself that if that were true, why would I still be showing interest in you. I mean, I've already had you."

"Santana, I," Quinn stutters.

"I know what the public perception of me is Quinn. I just figured that since we had been spending so much time together, that you saw past all of that. That you were getting to know the private me. That you understood that this is very important to me. That you are very important to me. I guess not."

Quinn is at a lost for words. She sees the pained expression on Santana's face. The usually confident woman seems unsure and almost delicate. Quinn bites her lip and looks away. She was so blinded by her jealousy that she could hardly think rationally. Santana trains her eyes on the wall, not wanting Quinn to see the emotion playing across her face. Quinn takes a step closer to her.

"Hey," Quinn utters.

Santana still doesn't acknowledge her. Quinn unfolds Santana's arms from her chest. Quinn clasps Santana's hands firmly into her own.

"Santana look at me please," she says softly.

Santana looks at her and Quinn's heart almost breaks.

"I'm really sorry for hurting you," Quinn says.

"You didn't hurt me," Santana says stubbornly.

"All the same, I apologize either way."

Quinn gently tugs on Santana's hands, pulling her into her arms. Santana resists at first, but gives into Quinn's embrace. She exhales deeply and hugs Quinn a little tighter. After a moment Quinn steps away.

"Are we okay?" she asks.

"Yes," Santana answers.

"Good. I really like getting to know you better and I would like for that to continue, Santana."

"I'd very much like that as well," Santana agrees.

"Okay. Im going to head to wardrobe. See you on set."

"Okay."

...

After clearing the air between them, Quinn and Santana were able to fall right back into a nice rhythm with each other. The movie was coming along smoothly. The days on set seemed to fly by. The nights on set, when they weren't shooting, were spent in one trailer or the other under the guise of building a friendship.

Santana had just left her trailer to head to Quinn's. She heard the faint sound of music. The closer she got, the louder it became. When Santana got to the door she knocked a few times. She knew the woman inside couldn't hear her over the noise. Santana tried the knob. When it turned she let herself in.

_I can't control how I'm feeling inside. _

_I'm off the meter. _

_She's always on my mind. _

_Been a while since I felt this way. _

_I don't know what to say._

Santana immediately recognizes the voice and the song as her own. She leans on the doorjamb and watches Quinn prance about.

_I get the chills when I look in her eyes_

_She's so beautiful_

_She's everything and more_

_Want to see her every day_

_Hoping she feels the same way_

_She's a keeper_

Quinn is dancing along in front of a mirror. She's singing into a hair brush, completely unaware that she has company. Santana smiles at witnessing Quinn so uninhibited. She's also impressed that Quinn seems to know every word.

_C is for your confidence girl, I love the cool in you_

_R is for the rumors they make, I wish that they were true_

_Oh you put a smile on my face, you're Unforgettable_

_S is for your sexiness_

_H, I got to have you_

_Got a crush on you_

_ I love me some you_

_A big crush on you_

_I love me some you_

Quinn leans into the mirror and does a little shimmy with her shoulders. Santana puts her hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. She doesn't want to alert the other woman to her presences just yet. Quinn keeps bopping along until the song comes to an end. Santana gives her a slow applause.

"Holy shit! You scared the hell out of me!" Quinn exclaims.

Quinn clutches her chest to calm her racing heart. She wasn't expecting to have an audience for her impromptu performance.

"You sounded good there, Quinn. I didn't know you had such a nice singing voice. I didn't know you were a fan either," Santana comments.

Quinn's face flushes from embarrassment. She had listened to Santana's first album more times than she was willing to admit. What she was willing to admit was that the young woman was extremely talented. Quinn ventured to listen to more of her music, interested to see what all the hype behind Santana Lopez was. Most of her sophomore album was a bit on the x-rated side, with the exception of a couple songs. The current one Quinn was playing seemed to strike a chord with her.

"You make good music when your mind isn't in the gutter," Quinn says.

"Thank you I think," Santana answers.

"Why don't you do more songs like this?" Quinn asks.

"I do."

"Why haven't I ever heard any of them?" Quinn inquires.

"You have."

Quinn is confused by Santana's vague answer. She brushes it off and takes a seat. Santana sits on the opposite end of the couch. They look at each other with matching goofy grins on their faces. After a while of just gazing at one another, Quinn starts to feel a little coy.

"Are you going to Mercedes' barbecue this weekend?" Quinn asks.

"Absolutely. Her cook outs are always a guaranteed good time."

"I know right. It feels like forever since I've been to one," Quinn comments.

"Speaking of Mercedes, why didn't you tell me you knew her?" Santana asks.

"Because you seemed so proud that you knew the incomparable Mercedes Jones. I didn't want to take that away from you," she explains.

"How kind of you," Santana says.

Quinn shrugs her shoulders and smiles.

"So since we're both going to the same place and I'm pretty sure you don't know where Cedes' new house is, how about I pick you up?" Santana offers.

"I'd like that," Quinn smiles.

"Cool beans. Now, David isn't going to be upset we're spending time together is he? I don't want to have to go all Lord Voldemort on his ass," Santana says.

Quinn falters, not expecting to be asked about David. She doesn't know why, but she's not yet ready to divulge the nonexistence of a relationship with him to Santana.

"I'm not really concerned what David thinks and neither should you be," Quinn replies.

"Then consider me unconcerned."

"Good, I'll be ready by two," Quinn says.

"Then it's a date," Santana smiles.

...

At exactly two o'clock on Saturday, Santana pulls up outside of Quinn's bungalow at The Chateau. Quinn is already outside waiting for her. Santana parks and waves and Quinn can feel the butterflies start to flutter in her stomach. As she approaches the car, Santana takes the opportunity for a visual appraisal. Quinn is in a white, short sleeved button up shirt. It's tied at the waist and there are frilly ruffles on the arms. She has on a bright red skirt that comes down to her knees. Flat sandals adorn her feet. Her hair is down, gently swaying on her shoulders as she strolls. Santana thinks she looks absolutely beautiful.

"Punctual as usual," Quinn says.

She sits in the passenger seat and flashes Santana her pearly whites.

"Only a fool would keep a woman like you waiting," Santana replies.

Santana winks and pulls off. The women ride in comfortable silence with nothing but the soft tones coming from the radio. Quinn watches the ocean pass in between stealing glances at Santana. Her chauffeur for the day is quietly singing along to the songs that are playing over the airwaves. Quinn isn't paying much attention to what their listening to. That is until she hears something that causes her ears to perk up.

_Yayo, yayo_

_Moo-la-lah_

_Yayo_

"Oh I love this song. Can I turn it up?" Quinn asks.

She doesn't wait for Santana to answer. She leans over and turns the radio way up. The music is so loud, Quinn can feel the rumble from Santana's speakers vibrate the seat. Santana glances back and forth between her passenger and the road. She is in complete awe at the display being put on next to her. Quinn is singing along with Rihanna, word for word. She has her hands in the air and is rocking side to side. Quinn is totally in the moment. Santana can't decide if it's cute or if she's a little disturbed.

_I call the shots, shots, shots_

_Like brrap, brrap, brrap_

_Pay me what you owe me_

_Don't act like you forgot_

Quinn continues to dance in her seat, singing the song flawlessly.

"Bitch better have my money!" Quinn chants along with the chorus.

She leans into Santana every time she says the line. Santana just laughs, highly amused with this version of Quinn Fabray. Santana gets swept up in the blonde's energy and starts singing along as well. When the song is over, Quinn sits back in her seat with a playful grin on her face.

"Quinn Fabray, that was ratchet as hell," Santana says.

"Ratchet?" Quinn asks.

"I'm sorry, allow me to translate. Quinn Fabray that was behavior unfitting for a lady of your stature."

"Oh whatever. You know you loved it," Quinn says.

"I did. I think if I brought you home to Lima Heighte you would actually be able to handle yourself."

Santana turns the volume down and the women go back to their own silent musings. Quinn is trying not to make to big of a deal about Santana insinuating that she'd like to take her home at some point. She sits back and takes a long look at Santana. She's wearing a yellow sundress with the matching hat. Her hair is down, flowing in the wind. Her signature sunglasses cover her eyes. Her skin seems to glisten in the sun and looks soft as ever. Quinn clenches her fist opened and closed to help resist the urge to run a finger from Santana's shoulder to her wrist.

"What is it Fabray? I can feel you undressing me with your eyes."

Quinn quickly looks away, clearly unaware that her gawking was a little more blatant than she thought.

"I was wondering who's going to be there?" Quinn says, wanting to change the subject.

"A little bit of everyone. Family, friends, some industry people that she's close to, Brittany," Santana rattles off.

"Brittany?" Quinn questions.

"Yes, she and Mercedes are still friends."

"I see," Quinn says.

"It isn't going to be an issue is it?"

"Not at all," Quinn says.

"Im sorry I didn't tell you earlier. It honestly slipped my mind," Santana explains.

"Hey," Quinn starts.

She runs her fingertips over the back of Santana's hand that's resting on the gear shift.

"You said that I'm important to you right?" Quinn continues.

"I did."

"Then I think it's time I should start giving you the benefit of the doubt."

Santana takes her sunglasses off for a minute so that Quinn can see the sincerity in her eyes.

"Thank you."

...

The women arrive at Mercedes' new home in no time flat. Quinn knew her friend had been doing well for herself, but she didn't know how well. Her jaw falls open as she stares at the entrance of the sprawling estate.

"It's nice right?" Santana asks.

Quinn nods her head in the affirmative.

"And you haven't even seen the good parts yet. C'mon."

The pair lets themselves in and heads towards the music they hear coming from the backyard. Quinn marvels the the extravagant decor of Mercedes' home as they trek through. When they step outside again, it's clear that the party is in full swing. There are about sixty people spread throughout the grounds. There's folks lounging on the patio, kids are swimming in the pool, there's a d.j. and a dance floor. Santana smiles when she sees Poppa Jones is manning the grill. She looks over and chuckles at the unbelieving look on Quinn's face.

"Of course Mercedes has a makeshift stage at her barbecue," Quinn comments.

In the center of all the commotion, there's a stage and a live band getting set up to play. Santana spies Mercedes' mom approaching and leads Quinn over to her.

"Hey Momma Jones," Santana says.

She hugs Mercedes mom and kisses her cheek. Mrs. Jones releases Santana and playful pushes her to the side so that she can get to Quinn.

"Hi Momma Jones," Quinn says.

"Oh Lucy! Mercedes told me you were in town. Come here honey and let me give you some sugar," she gushes.

Momma Jones holds Quinn for a long time, whispering something in her ear that Santana can't make out. After she lets Quinn go, she looks back and forth between the pair.

"Funny seeing the two of you show up together. I didn't even know you knew each other," Momma Jones says.

At this point, Mercedes has joined the group to greet her newly arrived guests. Santana gives her a scathing look, which she ignores. She knows Mrs. Jones is up to something and she knows Mercedes has something to do with it.

"Hey, glad ya'll could make it. And together I see," Mercedes says.

"I was just saying the same thing. I'm guessing it wasn't a coincidence that you two arrived at the same time," Mrs. Jones adds.

Santana's eyes shoot to Quinn's, who offers her a comforting smile.

"Momma remember I told you not to mention that because Santana isn't sure if Lucy is feeling her too."

"Mercedes!" Santana exclaims.

Santana gives Mercedes another glare that is once again ignored.

"That's right, my bad," Mrs. Jones apologizes.

Santana knows this conversation is about to get even more uncomfortable. Mercedes and her mother are masters at embarrassing you to no end.

"Hey I see Dice over there. Let me go say hello."

Santana quickly excuses herself from the situation to go speak to her cousin. Mrs. Jones returns her attention to Quinn. Quinn just smiles, knowing that the wheels are turning in Momma Jones' head. She hooks her arm through the crook of Quinn's and leads her further into the yard.

"Come sweetheart. Tell me everything that's been going on with you."

...

After about a twenty minute conversation Mrs. Jones, being cornered by Mr. Jones and saying hello to a veritable amount of people she hadn't seen in a while, Quinn goes in search of Santana. She bumps into Mercedes along the way.

"Hey girl, are you enjoying yourself?" Mercedes asks.

"I am. Diva this house is amazing," Quinn states.

"Thank you. I work hard and deserve to treat myself," Mercedes says.

"That you do," Quinn agrees.

She notices some one approaching over the woman's shoulder. She grins when Sam Evans gets closer into view. He's motioning for Quinn to be quiet so that he can sneak up on his unsuspecting girlfriend.

"I'll have to give you the grand tour before you leave," Mercedes offers.

Sam smoothly slides his arms around Mercedes waist and places a gentle kiss to her neck.

"Is it just me or do you get more and more beautiful every time I come home?" he murmurs in her ear.

"Baby!" Mercedes exclaims.

She turns and plants a juicy kiss on his lips. Quinn just looks on and smiles. It makes her happy to see, that after all this time, Sam and Mercedes still behave like two people who are newly in love. It renews her faith in the whole notion of finding and sustaining a lasting relationship. The kisses start to get a little more languid, the pair oblivious to the fact that Quinn is still there. She looks away, shifting uncomfortably. When the kissing leads to some groping, Quinn clears her throat loudly to get their attention.

"Sorry to interrupt this lovely reunion, but I was actually looking for Santana," she trails off.

"Last I saw her, she was down by the pool house," Mercedes says.

She points her in the right direction and Quinn quickly makes her exit. She spots a flash of yellow and smiles when she sees Santana's silhouette. As she gets closer, her smile quickly fades when she sees Santana is not alone. She's talking to Brittany and it looks like it isn't a friendly discussion.

"I can't believe you brought her to Mercedes party knowing I was going to be here. You're trying to make me jealous aren't you?" Brittany fumes.

Quinn slows her pace hoping to overhear as much of the conversation as she can.

"Trust and believe that you are not a part of my decision making process Brittany, so don't flatter yourself. Besides, Quinn was invited. She would have been here either way."

"Why would Mercedes invite her? Are you guys already that serious that you're introducing her to our friends?" Brittany accuses.

"They were already friends. She and Mercedes go way back," Santana says.

"How far?" Brittany asks.

"Apparently longer than she's known us."

Brittany huffs, not liking Santana's answer by having to accept it.

"Ok but that still doesn't explain why you two showed up together," she says.

"Brittany, I don't know how many times you need to hear it to be able to understand, but I no longer have to explain myself to you," Santana points out.

Brittany softens her stance, knowing that fighting with Santana will get her nowhere. She tries a different approach.

"Baby you have made your point ok. I get it. You win. I'll do whatever it is you want me to do," Brittany pleads.

Brittany inches closer to Santana. She places a stray hair behind Santana's ear and allows her fingers to linger. All Quinn sees is red. How dare Brittany touch her Santana.

"There you are San. I've been looking all over for you," Quinn announces.

She steps into view and walks directly in the midst of them, effectively putting space between Brittany and Santana. Quinn leans in and places a kiss on the confused woman's cheek. Did Quinn just call her San? She was pretty sure that the blonde had never been so familiar with her in all the time they spent together.

"Hello Brittany, I didn't even notice you there. How lovely to see you again," Quinn says sweetly.

"Quinn," Brittany says flatly.

"Sweetie, I was wondering if you could give me the grand tour you promised. Mercedes is otherwise occupied," Quinn says.

Santana hesitates at the use of the endearment.

"Of, of course," she stutters.

Quinn happily takes the arm Santana offers to her. She hooks her own arm through Santana's and gives Brittany a smug smile.

"Brittany if you'll excuse us," Santana says.

"It was nice seeing you again Brittany," Quinn says a little too cheerily.

Brittany eyes shoot daggers at Quinn. Quinn is so giddy that she has pushed the other woman's buttons. She almost wants to stick her tongue out at her in victory.

"Quinn," Brittany says in a cutting tone.

The two wander around for a while, Santana pointing out things here and there. The pair eventually find themselves on a bench in Mercedes' flower garden. They sit quietly, enjoying the sights and the sounds. Santana seems to be enjoying the silence, but Quinn is chomping at the bit. She's eager to know more about Santana's relationship with Brittany.

"So what's the story with you and Brittany?" Quinn asks.

Santana sighs, not knowing where to begin with her and Brittany's long checkered past.

"Brittany and I met on Mercedes' tour. I was a backup singer. She was one of the dancers."

Quinn nods, now understanding the Brittany and Mercedes connection.

"We became instant friends. It was almost kind of surreal the way we immediately connected. I'd never had that with anyone else up until that point."

Quinn watches while Santana gathers her thoughts.

"I had started developing feelings for her and it scared the hell out of me. For one, I had never been in love before. On top of all of that, I didn't even know if Brittany was gay. So one night, we got drunk off of our asses and I told her I was falling in love with her."

"I'm guessing she took that information well," Quinn comments.

"Better than I expected. She leaned in and kissed me. The moment our lips touched, it was like my body had come alive for the very first time."

Quinn nods again, completely understanding how a kiss can awaken parts of you that were lying dormant.

"We made love that night and were a couple from that point on."

"So what happened?" Quinn asks.

Santana gives a sardonic laugh.

"Hell, what didn't happen? We were young. Still trying to establish our careers and who we were as people. Then there was all the temptation around us. We were in a different city almost every night. It was so easy to find someone to lose yourself in for the evening."

"And you guys did?" Quinn questions.

"I didn't. The bevy of beautiful women never phased me. All I could see was Brittany. She was enough to fulfill and satisfy me. I wish the same was true for her."

Santana swallows hard, trying to control the feelings this conversation is bringing up.

"I kind of already knew about the other women. When we first started dating, we would sleep together every night. Then all of a sudden, there would be nights she wouldn't answer her cell. Or she'd make a lame excuse about not feeling well and wanting to be alone. I'd managed to talk myself into being okay with it. I thought Brittany was my soul mate. So I didn't mind if she needed to sow her wild oats first."

"What changed?" Quinn probes.

"Artie."

"As in our director?" Quinn asks.

"One and the same."

"Shit," she mumbles.

"I know right. I could handle Brittany sleeping with other women. At least I still had a fighting chance. But a man, how was I supposed to compete with a man."

"So she left you for Artie, but they aren't together anymore. So what happened there?"

"Artie had promised her a part in his new movie. He told her he was going to make her Angelina famous. Then he got in the accident that put him in a wheel chair. His career went off its trajectory and she moved on to the next best thing."

"That's a pretty asshole move of her," Quinn remarks.

Santana doesn't respond. She's lost in all the old pain that she thought had long died away.

"It's pretty obvious that she still wants to be with you," Quinn states.

"She and I would hookup every couple of months or so. We would run into each other at a club or an event and the fireworks would go off between us. We'd spend days on end in bed. She would promise me she had changed and that she wanted to try again. Then we'd get into an argument and she was back to needing to be free. I put my foot down six months ago and haven't seen her in that way since."

Quinn is a bit relieved at Santana's confession. After hearing their history, Quinn knows that Brittany would definitely be an even greater obstacle to getting closer to Santana.

"The worst part of it all is that I lost my best friend. Don't get me wrong, Mercedes is my girl and Dice is like my right hand man, but I've never had anyone get me like Brittany does. It sucks that I got my heart broken and lost my other half all in one fell swoop."

"I'm so sorry Santana," Quinn coos.

Quinn rubs her hand up and down Santana's back, trying to offer some comfort.

"I say that I've moved on, but til this day, what she did still haunts me. That's why I don't take making a commitment lightly. Things like truthfulness and fidelity are important to me. That's also why I'm completely honest with you and asks full disclosure in return. Secrets and lies are the fastest way to tank a relationship."

Quinn swallows the lump in her throat. She feels even more guilty about hiding her break up from Santana. She would hate for her to hear it from someone else first.

"Santana there's something I've been meaning to tell you," Quinn starts.

"There you are!" Mercedes exclaims.

Quinn sighs at her missed opportunity. She'll have to find another time to confess to Santana.

"I've been looking everywhere for you guys," Mercedes says.

"What's up Cedes?" Santana asks.

"The band is fired up and ready to go. I was hoping that a certain pop sensation would sing a little something for us," she replies.

"I don't think you can afford me," Santana jokes.

"Ha! I could buy and sell your ass five times over. Now come get on stage before I tell my momma that you're not playing nicely," Mercedes threatens

The idea of being ratted out to Mrs. Jones is enough motivation to get both women moving. They quickly head back in the fray, each with a lot more on their minds.

...

The party carries on with the same jovial mood in the air. The alcohol is flowing and the atmosphere is loosing up. Everyone is smiling and just generally having a good time. Throughout the evening, Santana and Quinn share little glances and smiles. They dance and make each other laugh. They sit as close to each other as possible without actually touching. Every chance they get, one is removing something from the other's face. Or moving a stray hair back in place. Any excuse to make physical contact. Mercedes and Mrs. Jones give each other a knowing look, trying to figure out who Quinn and Santana think they are fooling. Quinn even manages to sneak in some one in one time with Dice. She discovers that Santana's cousin is just as charming as Santana is.

As promised Santana does a song for everyone. After warming the crowd up nicely, a few of the other guest do a number as well. The barbecue soon turns into a spontaneous concert. It isn't long before everyone is demanding Mercedes to sing. After much cajoling, she finally takes the stage.

"Now before I sing for you all, first I want to thank everyone for coming out. I planned this little get together as a celebration. It's been so long since so many people that I love and care about have been in the same place at the same time. I wanted the opportunity for all of us to get together."

Everyone applauds and whistles their approval.

"Secondly, I wanted to have a little something to congratulate my man on becoming the new face of Armani. Come on up here baby," Mercedes says.

Sam approaches the stage to another round of applause and well wishes.

"Thank you Mercy. You're truly are too good to me. I'm glad that you were able to get so many people we love together today because I have one more thing we need to celebrate."

Sam takes Mercedes' hand and drops to one knee.

"Anybody who knows me, knows I come from humble beginnings. I'm not the the richest man in the world or the handsomest. I can be a little dense sometimes and I'm not always quick on the uptake. But none of those things ever mattered to you. You always could see who I really was, the important parts of me. And when you find someone who gets you and brings out the best in you, you hold on to that. I guess I've said all of that, to say this. Mercedes Jones, will you marry me?"

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a stunning ten karat diamond ring. Mercedes doesn't hesitate for a second.

"Yes!" she screams.

Sam puts the ring on her finger and kisses her softly. Mr. and Mrs. Jones rush the stage to congratulate the newly engaged couple. Quinn reaches over and grabs Santana's hand, communicating her joy for their friends. Santana tries to discreetly wipe away a tear that has trickled down her cheek. Mrs. Jones shoos everyone off stage and takes the mic.

"It's going to be hard to follow an act like that, but I'll give it a try. Sam you have been good to my baby since day one. You bring out the best in her as well. I can't wait for you to officially become a part of our family. This song is for you," Mrs. Jones says.

She starts the opening lines of Aretha Franklin's 'Natural Woman'. Quinn gets chills and is instantly transported back to her childhood. She remembers waking up Saturday mornings to the smell of breakfast and Mrs. Jones singing along to the record player. Santana runs her thumb across the back of Quinn's hand as they sway to the music. Mrs. Jones brings the house down with her rendition. Not too long after, the party starts to wind down. Santana motions to Quinn asking if she's ready to leave. They head over to tell Mercedes and her parents goodbye. They both lean in and give Mr. Jones a hug.

"Lucy don't be a stranger now, you hear?" he instructs.

"Yes Poppa Jones."

Mrs. Jones gives both of them a hug. She steps back to look at them better with a hand still firmly placed on either of their cheeks.

"Lucy you two look good together," she says.

"Momma Jones please," Santana begs.

"What? All I'm saying is that I'm not the only one who notices that you two make a striking pair," she explains.

"Duly noted," Quinn replies.

They hug Mercedes and congratulate her and Sam again. Mercedes and Mrs. Jones watch them as they try their hardest to appear friendly. Their hands are still loosely linked as they make their way to Santana's car.

"They are not fooling anybody," Mrs. Jones mutters.

...

Santana arrives at Quinn's bungalow later that evening.

"I had a really good time tonight," Quinn says.

"Ain't no party like a Mercedes Jones party," Santana starts.

"Cause a Mercedes Jones party don't stop," Quinn finishes.

The two laugh at their level of dorkiness. They fall back into a comfortable silence. The vibe that had been growing between them all afternoon is even more palpable. They hadn't stopped touching since they had gotten in the car. Santana drove the entire way back with Quinn casually playing with the hair at the nape of her neck. She grabs Quinn's hand, pressing Quinn's knuckles to her lips.

"Walk you to you're door?" Santana asks.

Quinn nods yes and the two get out of the car. No words are spoken as they journey to the front door. Just the occasional 'not so accidental' accidental brushing of shoulders. Santana stands behind Quinn as she fumbles with her keys. She goes to place the key in the lock and almost drops them when she feels Santana pressing up against her.

"Quinn turn around," Santana murmurs.

She takes a deep breath and tries to steady her shaking hands. She turns to find herself trapped between Santana and the front door. Santana has placed her hands against the door on either side of Quinn's head. Santana's eyes are low and heavy with desire. Quinn can feel her heart rate speeding up and the butterflies starting to flutter again. Their faces are barely an inch apart. Santana's eyes search hers, silently asking a question.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Santana whispers.

Quinn can feel her legs quiver at the moment Santana's lips make contact with hers. She remembers the last time they kissed. This time is nothing like that. Their first encounter was frantic and rough. This experience is something akin to a reacquaintance. Santana is kissing her slowly, savoring every movement. Quinn is lost in Santana's taste. Santana lightly sucks on Quinn's bottom lip, enjoying the feel of it in her mouth. Her tongue plays along Quinn's lips, asking for entrance. Quinn eagerly accepts and they both moan at the first touch. She cups Santana's face, pulling her in deeper. Their tongues perform a sensual dance, advancing and retreating. Fighting a battle that both are the victor of. Quinn can quickly feel herself starting to get out of control. She had swore to herself that she wasn't going to get intimately involved with Santana again. Not at least until she knew what the younger woman's intentions were. That pledge is fading farther and farther into the back of her consciousness. Santana kisses her for what seems like forever, when she finally pulls back to take a breath. Quinn has never been more grateful for the need to intake oxygen. In about two more minutes, Santana would've been able to talk her into anything.

"Quinn?" Santana breathes out.

"Yeah."

"I'll see you at work on Monday."

Quinn's eyes flutter open and she takes in the cocky grin on Santana's face. She has been played. She lets out a soft chuckle.

"Drive safely Santana."

Santana backs away slowly, never breaking eye contact. Quinn waits at her door until she's sure Santana has driven away.

"I am in so much trouble," she mumbles to herself.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I finally got this one done. I don't know what it is about the eighth chapter in my stories, but they always end up being my favorite ones. It's the case with my other story and it rings true for this one as well. And remember what I said about the last chapter being the longest one I had ever written? I lied, this one is. To answer some of your questions, I fully intended to get around to divulging more of Quinn's background. It's coming up in the next couple of chapters or so. Hope you guys like this one. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

**...**

Quinn is in the back seat of her town car as Jeffery makes his way to Paramount. She's replying back to some emails on her phone, trying to finalize a few things. She closes out of the app and smiles at her screen saver. At some point during Mercedes' barbecue, someone had managed to snap a picture of her and Santana. You could tell by the photo that they weren't aware that their picture was being taken. Neither one of them were looking at the camera. Santana was leaning over whispering something to her, while Quinn laughed at whatever absurd thing was being said. Santana had texted it to her, with the simple message '_love being able to make you smile'_. Jeffery pulls up at the gate of the studio and they are greeted by the sight of some protestors. There are about fifteen people gathered, all holding signs.

"If you continue to support this studio, you're going to hell!" one shouts.

Quinn peers through her tinted window at the group, wondering what all the commotion is about.

"Good morning Miss Fabray," the security guard says.

"Good morning Julian," Quinn answers.

Quinn offers a warm smile to the young man. He's one of the few security guards that she knows on a first name basis.

"What's with the crowd?" Jeffery asks.

"They got wind of one of the movies being heavy in homosexual overtones. They're demanding it be shut down," Julian explains.

Quinn lets out a silent '_oh_' at this revelation. She has an inkling of what movie they were up in arms about. Jeffery makes his way around and lets her out at her trailer.

"I'll call you if I need you to come get me this evening," Quinn says.

"Ok Miss Fabray. Have a wonderful day."

"I'll try," Quinn lets out with a sigh.

She goes through the motions of hair, wardrobe and makeup, wondering how this latest development is going to affect production. She soon gets her answer as a livid Santana storms into the makeup trailer.

"So unless I back out of the movie and we change the script, the protesters are going to increase everyday?" Santana says into her phone.

She listens raptly as she paces.

"That's fucking bull shit Noah and you know it!" she yells into the reciever.

Quinn watches Santana's face as it goes through an array of emotions, none of them pleasant.

"Well you can tell all those conservative sons of bitches that they can kiss my woman loving ass. It'll be a cold day in hell before I give up my movie because some right wing bastard on Capitol Hill doesn't think the portrayal of a same sex couple on the big screen is morally right."

Santana quickly ends her call. She continues pacing as she grumbles to herself. It isn't until Quinn clears her throat that she realizes she isn't alone. Santana's eyes light up at the sight of Quinn. Quinn's demeanor is equally as enthusiastic. Jo, the makeup artist, silently watches the exchange between the two women.

"Hey you," Santana smiles.

"Hi," Quinn returns.

"How was your weekend?" Santana inquires.

"Pretty uneventful. A friend of mine had a small get together," Quinn says.

Santana chuckles to herself thinking about the '_small_' get together.

"Uneventful huh? Is that so," Santana says.

"Yep. What about you? How was your weekend?" Quinn asks.

"More or less the same. Spent some time with some old friends. Got to know a new one a little better. But for the most part it was pretty blasé," Santana says nonchalantly.

"Blasé? Really?"

"Mm hmm."

"Do you two need a moment? Should I leave?" Jo asks.

Both women blush, not aware that their subtle flirtation was not so subtle. Santana coughs a couple times and Quinn attempts to disappear into the chair she's sitting in. Jo just snickers and decides to spare them any further humiliation. She switches to a safer topic of discussion. The three of them continue small talk about the events of the weekend and more importantly, the recent development of the protestors. Quinn can feel a sense of foreboding about the whole predicament, but Santana assures her it's being handled.

...

When the women arrive at the studio on Wednesday, the crowd has tripled in size. They are chanting and by the looks of things, garnering some support. The whole situation is making everyone from the studio heads to the movie execs really nervous. They had already cut down on some of the scenes they were shooting to appease the mob.

"Did you see how crazy things have gotten?" Quinn asks Santana.

They are on a break waiting for their next scene together.

"I did and I think they're all idiots," Santana grumbles.

"You don't think it'll cause anymore interruptions in production do you?" Quinn questions.

"It better not."

Quinn fidgets with her nails before she asks Santana the next question.

"What are you plans for the weekend?"

"Going to Vegas for the Billboard Awards," Santana answers.

"Oh," Quinn says, a little disappointed.

"What's up? You don't seem happy to hear that."

"I was just hoping we could hang out this weekend," Quinn says.

Santana waits for a beat.

"Come with me," she suggests.

"To Vegas?"

"Yes. I don't have a date and it would be deeply honored if you would go with me. You'd save me the embarrassment of having to let Dice escort me," Santana elaborates.

"A date?" Quinn repeats.

"I use the term 'date' lightly. I'd like to think of it as nothing more than one friend keeping another friend company on a business trip. There will be nothing unseemly happening, I promise."

"I don't know," Quinn hesitates.

"Please."

Quinn shakes her head at the sight in front of her. Santana is giving Quinn her best puppy dog eyes. She's pretty sure Santana could get away with murder with that face.

"Alright," she says reluctantly.

"Yes! We're going to have an awesome time," Santana squeals.

...

Quinn stares excitedly out of the window as the small plane makes its decent.

"I haven't been to Vegas in ages," she comments.

The short jaunt from Los Angeles to Las Vegas had given the women a chance to spend some nice, uninterrupted time with each other.

"I sense a wild side lurking under that cool and calm demeanor. Care to share?" Santana says.

Quinn peels her eyes from the window long enough to give Santana a quick wink and a shoulder shrug.

"You know the motto, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," Quinn answers.

"So very true. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to add to your crazy things that only happen in Vegas memory bank. I have all kinds of press and promotional things I have to do today. But you have a blast," Santana says.

"Santana I came here to be with you. Whatever you have planned, I'd be more than happy to tag along. Besides, I enjoy watching you work a room."

She was sure that Quinn didn't mean anything by it, but the way she said '_be with you_' made Santana's heart leap just a little. Quinn was smiling at her and her hazel eyes were shining bright. Santana smiles back.

"Ok, you get to see me in full Snixx mode."

"Speaking of, I notice that your entourage is decidely missing," Quinn mentions.

"Oh that's because they're in Vegas already. They got here yesterday to make sure everything is in place. I have to hit the ground running as soon as we land. No time to waste because I was unprepared."

Quinn soon discovers that Santana isn't exaggerating when she says she has no time. As soon as the wheels touch the runway, the women are whisked off to the hotel. Santana had reserved them rooms at the Wynn. Quinn admires the lobby while Dice gets their room situation taken care of. This would be her first time staying at this particular hotel. Quinn is relieved yet a little disappointed when Santana hands her a room key.

"Separate rooms?" Quinn asks.

"Quinn I was serious when I said I didn't expect anything from you except some friendly company. I didn't want to be presumptuous by assuming you were comfortable sharing a room with me," Santana elaborates.

"Thank you," Quinn smiles.

"Of course. I'm due at the radio station in forty five minutes. Is twenty minutes enough time for you to freshen up."

"It is. I'll meet you out front in twenty."

...

"Good morning my beautiful people. As promised I have critically acclaimed singer and budding actress Santana Lopez in the studio. And as a surprise treat Quinn Fabray is here as well. Would you like to say what's up ladies?" DJ Freeway poses.

"Good morning everyone," Quinn says.

"What's happening," Santana says.

"We know why Santana is here, but I know everyone is probably wondering what brings you to the station this morning Quinn?" Freeway asks.

"We had a short break from filming and it's been awhile since I've been to Vegas. Santana offered to let me be her shadow for the day, so here I am," Quinn explains.

"Well lucky us," DJ Freeway replies.

He then turns his attention to Santana.

"So you two are making a movie together," he states.

"Yes," Santana answers.

"Quinn we all know that you're an O.G. in the movie game, but Santana this is your first feature film correct?"

"It is," Santana replies.

"So Quinn how is it working with Santana? Is it challenging to be her first co-star?"

"She's amazing. She's very much a natural. I'm honored to be her first," Quinn responds.

"Wanky," Santana teases.

"Not like that. All I'm saying is it's my pleasure to be the one to help her get her feet wet," Quinn clarifies.

"I mean just wanky. Quinn you're making this entirely too easy for me," Santana jokes.

Quinn blushes hard at what her words could be construed to mean. DJ Freeway laughs at the teasing nature between the two women.

"She's definitely making my job easier. I'd like to thank you for the nice segue into my next question. Let's address these rumors that you two have a sizzling romance going on," he says.

"We are just colleagues," Quinn answers.

"And friends," Santana adds quickly.

"Yes and friends," Quinn agrees.

"I don't know if I'm buying that ladies. If you guys out there could see the energy flowing between these two right now. Man, it's off the charts. I'm pretty sure I'm in danger of being electrocuted at any moment."

"We just have good chemistry," Santana replies.

"That you do. The video you guys shot together is hot. If that's anything to go by, I'm very excited to see you together on the big screen."

Santana looks over and winks at Quinn. Quinn smiles and bashfully looks away.

"Let's talk a little bit more about your movie," Freeway says.

"It's a romantic comedy. It's about a writer who is penning a murder mystery. She's doing research for it so she shadows this hard nosed cop. They find themselves entangled in a real life murder mystery and hilarity ensues," Santana explains.

"A romantic comedy? So that means you two have to make out?" he asks.

"Yes," Quinn answers slowly.

"Santana we know you have no problem smooching the ladies," Freeway starts

"That I don't."

"But how was it for you Quinn? We're you uncomfortable at all?" he inquires.

"Not at all. First and foremost, I'm a professional. I do whatever I need to in order to get the job done. But most importantly, do you see her? She's absolutely flawless. Who wouldn't want to make out with Santana Lopez?" Quinn reasons.

"True, true," DJ Freeway laughs.

Quinn chances a glance at Santana, who gives her a sly smile.

"So Santana you're out here because you're performing at the the Billboard Awards tonight," he says.

"Yes I am."

"And you've been nominated for how many?"

"Four," Santana answers.

"That is impressive. And you're up against your good friend Mercedes Jones in every category."

"I am. Cedes I love you boo, but don't get mad when I take home all of the trophies."

Quinn and Freeway laugh at Santana's bravado.

"I'm sensing a little bit of competition between the two of you," he notes.

"It's all in good fun. I owe Mercedes a lot. If it weren't for her, it might have taken a lot longer for my career to get off the ground. Besides a win for her is a win for me, so I'm good either way."

"That's right, for many of you out there who may not know, Santana writes a lot of Mercedes' music."

Quinn is surprised to say the least at this tidbit. She had no idea that Santana and Mercedes worked that closely together.

"When can we be expecting new music from you?" Freeway asks.

"My album is in the works. Just putting some finishing touches on it so be looking for it soon."

The interview goes on for about another ten minutes, with both Quinn and Santana answering caller questions. Freeway offers both of them a hug as they get ready to leave.

"Great interview Snixx," Freeway comments.

"Always a pleasure," she says.

"And Quinn I enjoyed having you on so very much. Please feel free to stop by whenever you're in town," he adds.

"I'll keep that in mind."

The rest of the day carries on in much of the same fashion. Santana stops by the local morning show, does a couple more radio appearances and even a quick photo shoot. Quinn is equally impressed and in awe of the young woman's work ethic. No one can ever say Santana hasn't earned her fame and fortune. It's obvious that she works hard for every part of her success. They arrive back at the hotel with a few hours to spare before the show.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty to get you something to wear tonight," Santana says.

"Santana, you didn't have to."

"I know but I wanted to. Call it a show of gratitude for you coming out here today."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're quite welcome. Hair and make up will be by in two hours," Santana tells her.

"Okay what do you plan on doing in the mean time?" Quinn asks.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a nap," she answers.

The adrenaline of the day is slowly starting to fade and Quinn admits that she is a little worn down herself. They part ways and go to their respective rooms, both anxious about how the rest of the evening is going to unfold.

...

"You look, I'm just, I don't even know what to say," Santana rambles.

Santana had saw the dress she had picked out for Quinn a few days ago. It was bright red and Santana knew it would look amazing against Quinn's pale skin. It was sleeveless, showcasing the blonde's shoulders and toned arms. It was floor length and fit her like a glove. Quinn opted to have her golden mane swept up and her face appeared that it didn't have an inch of makeup on it. The only give away was the red lipstick that was the same tone as her dress.

"You are so good for a girl's ego," Quinn chuckles.

"I am doing nothing but telling the God's honest truth. You look... man."

"What?" Quinn asks.

"I'm just trying not to say anything that will get me in trouble. If you had any idea of half of the things that are going through my mind right now. I run the risk of being slapped."

Quinn giggles again at Santana's overt approval of her appearance.

"Are you sure David won't be upset that you're escorting me this evening?" Santana asks.

The pair are sitting in the back of the limo that is taking them to the MGM Grand. Santana opted for her crew to ride in a separate car, wanting to spend as much alone time with Quinn as possible.

"David doesn't have a say in what I do or who I do it with," Quinn answers.

Santana accepts Quinn's answer and slides back in her seat. They ride in a comfortable silence while they continue the journey to the theater.

"How do I look?" Santana asks.

Quinn hadn't seen Santana until the moment she was inside the limo. Santana was wearing a long, form fitting, long sleeved black dress. She was mostly covered, with the exception of the cutout in front that started right below here collar and ended right above her navel. Her hair was down, with a little bit of curl at the end. Her makeup was very understated. Quinn is trying her best not to blatantly stare at her cleavage. She notices Santana's lipstick is a little smudged.

"You got a little something. Here let me get it," Quinn says.

She moves closer and removes the bit of lipstick on the corner of Santana's mouth. Before she can withdraw her thumb all the way, Santana turns her head and places a gentle kiss against it.

"Thanks babe," Santana says with a wink.

Her door opens and she hops out quickly. Quinn is finally gifted with a rear view of Santana's outfit, which reveals a similar cut out to the front, that stops right above her ass. Quinn groans, wondering how she's going to stop herself from touching the other woman all night. Santana stops and smiles for the million camera flashes that are going off simultaneously. When it doesn't appear that Quinn is right behind her, she pokes her head back inside to see what the hold up is. Quinn is still reeling from the view and the feel of Santana's lips against her thumb.

"Are you coming?" Santana asks.

She offers her hand for the blonde to take. Quinn nods slowly as she slips her fingers into Santana's grasp. It seems the number of flashes increase tenfold the second Quinn steps into view. The two make their way down the red carpet to a barrage of questions being thrown at them. Santana leans in close to Quinn to pose a question.

"Do you want to give them a show?" she asks.

Quinn sees the sparkle in Santana's eye and can tell she's being devious. Quinn figures what the hell. She's down for some mischief. She gives Santana the go ahead and the young woman smiles like the Cheshire Cat. The remainder of the walk down the red carpet, the women strike intimate poses, always sure to be touching one another. Santana leans in as if she's whispering sweet nothings to Quinn. Quinn removes nonexistent lint from Santana's dress. Santana moves close to Quinn, possessively draping an arm around her waist. Quinn can't deny that she's a little tickled by the pandemonium they're causing. She also can't deny that a part of her is enjoying the amorous way she and Santana are carrying on. Sure, she's walked her fair share of carpets, but never had she had the opportunity to do it with someone she was more than just friendly with. Sure she and Santana were only just pals, but even a blind person could see their relationship was more than platonic. Once inside the hotel, Santana keeps a firm grasps on Quinn's hand as they mingle with the crowd of stars. They introduce each other to celebs the other is dying to meet and marvel over how many mutual acquaintances they have.

"It's insane how many of the same people we know, " Quinn states.

"I know right. And to think we were at T. Swift's cabin only a week apart," Santana adds.

"And don't think I didn't notice how flustered you got when I introduced you to Scarlett," Quinn mentions.

Quinn was highly amused by the seemingly unflappable Santana Lopez being reduced to a school girl in the presence of Scarlett Johansson.

"Give me a break Fabray. You'd have to be super human not to get tongue tied around ScarJo."

"You do like your blondes don't you?" Quinn asks.

"I wouldn't say that," Santana drawls.

"Scarlett, Brittany, me. It's hard not to notice the trend."

"I like all women. I can't help it if it seems that I have an affinity for the blonde ones."

"Sure," Quinn says sarcastically.

"How is it that are paths haven't crossed until now?" Santana muses.

"Maybe we were fated to meet at the exactly perfect moment. Any moment before or after than and the timing wouldn't have been right," Quinn offers as an explanation.

"Look at you getting all deep and shit. I thought you majored in drama not philosophy," Santana teases.

They laugh all the way to their seats as they get ready for the show to start.

...

Later that evening, Santana and Quinn arrive at one of the after parties Santana is required to attend. They stroll through the party, hand in hand, making idle chit chat with the other attendees. Quinn smiles big when she catches Mercedes and Sam heading their way.

"Hey you guys," Mercedes says.

She greets both women with a hug.

"Hey Cedes, Froggy Lips," Santana says.

"Santana leave my baby alone," Mercedes chides.

"That's alright Mercy. Hello to you too Santana," Sam says.

"Quinn you look amazing," Mercedes compliments.

Quinn does a little spin for Sam and Mercedes to see.

"Thank you. You guys look nice as well," she says.

"I've got to hand it to you San, you've got a good eye. This dress looks great on her," Mercedes states.

"How did you," Quinn trails off.

"Oh cause Santana called and asked me if you'd be insulted if she bought you a dress for tonight."

"Mercedes!" Santana exclaims.

"What she asked? That's what you get for always making fun of Sam."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're just mad that I won Top Artist," Santana brags.

"You deserved it babe, but be on notice. I'm coming for you next year."

The four grab a few drinks and find their table. They mingle and enjoy the ambiance of the evening. The music is pumping and the dance floor is full of undulating bodies.

"Want to dance?" Santana asks Quinn.

Quinn shakes her head no.

"What, are you afraid?" Santana queries.

"Of dancing? No. I'm afraid of what dancing with you leads to."

Mercedes and Sam chortle as Santana grabs Quinn's hand and leads her to a prime spot on the dance floor. They assume their natural positions, Santana leading with Quinn pressed firmly into her. Quinn muses when they became so familiar with each other that they instinctively knew what places to take. They glide around the floor effortlessly. The whole thing is pretty cool and demure. Nothing like the heat that usually exists when they are this close to each other.

"Why do you automatically assume you get to lead?" Quinn asks.

"Cause I'm the more dominant personality," Santana answers confidently.

"Clearly you need to get to know me better if you think that is true."

"I do need to and I'm trying to," Santana murmurs.

Quinn can hear the sincerity in her tone. There's a flicker of remorse in her eye that Santana catches right away. She decides to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"There are a lot of cameras around," Santana mentions.

"I know."

"Wouldn't want David to get the wrong idea," Santana adds.

"Santana there's something I need to tell you," Quinn sighs.

"What's up?"

"David and I are no longer seeing each other. We haven't been since I returned from New York," she starts.

"I know," Santana interjects.

"I know I've should have told you sooner, but the right time never came up and wait what?"

"I said I know."

"But how?" Quinn asks.

"When you returned to L.A. and he wasn't attached to your hip. I saw the way David reacted after our pictures came out in the tabloids. I know men like him. He theoretically tried to pee on you whenever I was around. The was no way in hell he was going to let you be alone with me for even a second if he thought there might be a chance I could seduce you."

Quinn nods her head at Santana's accurate assessment of David.

"Besides I would never have kissed you if I thought you two were still together. I meant what I said about commitment and fidelity," Santana expounds.

"So why didn't you say something or ask me about it before now?"

"I wanted to give you the space and time to come to me when you were ready. I'll never pressure you to do anything that you don't want to do," Santana explains.

Quinn lets out the breath she didn't even know she was holding. After her confession, she feels remarkably lighter. With her conscious finally clear, Quinn is a little more emboldened. She takes a step closer to Santana, pressing their bodies more firmly together. Santana inhales deeply, taking all of the gorgeous woman in.

"You smell amazing," Santana murmurs.

"Thank you."

"It's that,"

"Chanel. Yes it is," Quinn answers.

Quinn's hands slowly drift from Santana's shoulders and make their way to her waist.

"You look so good tonight Santana."

Her hands circle around Santana's waist and she clasps them together.

"I've been trying to be the epitome of a lady tonight, but I've been wanting to do this all evening," Quinn whispers.

Santana inhales sharply as Quinn's hands find the bare skin of her back. She lets out a low groan as Quinn lightly runs her nails across it a few times.

"Quinn if you don't stop I can't be held responsible for what I do to you right here in a ballroom full of our peers."

"Promises, promises," Quinn says, goading Santana on.

Santana spins Quinn a few times before she dips her. Quinn gasps, not expecting the smaller woman to perform such a move. Santana pulls Quinn back in close to her. Quinn swallows hard at the fire that she sees in Santana's eyes. She looks like a jungle cat that has set sights on its prey. When the song ends, Quinn quickly steps back, putting as much distance between them as possible.

"You look like you're running scared Fabray," Santana taunts.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. I'll never tell."

"That's okay. I like a chase."

...

As the pair waits for the elevator, Quinn's pulse quickens at the thought of being alone in a closed space with Santana. She again remembers the promise she had made to not sleep with Santana. The only problem is that it was getting harder and harder to hold true to that promise. Especially after the evening the two had. Santana had been charming and gracious. She had an air of decorum that Quinn had not yet been privy to see. She was also extremely attentive to Quinn. Making sure to introduce her, even though it was often unnecessary, to everyone they spoke to. Always making sure to asks if she was enjoying herself or if she needed anything. Then there was the physical attentiveness. Santana kept a hand placed protectively on the small of her back for most of the evening. David had done it a numerous amount of times before, yet when Santana did it, it felt noticeably different. Santana didn't do it to lay claim to Quinn. It was more a gesture to let her know that no matter where her attention was at in the moment, Quinn was always her focus.

The two had been dancing, literally and figuratively, around their desire all evening.

"_I'm not going to have sex with her. I'm not going to have sex with her. I'm not going to have sex with her,"_ Quinn mentally coaches herself.

The ding of the elevator alerts them that the car has finally arrived.

"After you," Quinn says. She motions for Santana to go first. Santana saunters in and Quinn is mesmerized by her backside for the umpteenth time tonight.

"Are you going to get on the elevator or are you going to stare at my ass all night?" Santana asks.

Quinn shakes her head to clear the haze. She sees Santana leaning against the far wall looking like a siren, beckoning her closer. As helpless as the sailors of old, Quinn is drawn to her. She takes three swift strides and presses her body up against Santana's. The doors close behind them and the lift begins its ascent. It's completely silent apart from the heavy breaths coming from each of the women. Quinn's lips are a millimeter away from Santana's. Santana is silently challenging her not to make a move. Quinn gives in to the desire she has been having all evening and crashes her lips into Santana's. Santana's hands get lost in Quinn's hair while Quinn pulls her in tighter by her hips. They exchange hungry kisses and let their lips speak all the words they haven't been bold enough to put a voice to. Quinn can feel her desire ramping up and has an insatiable need to feel Santana closer. She hikes up Santana's dress and wraps a leg around her waist. Santana moans at the feel of Quinn's fingertips on her thigh. She prays to God that nobody gets on this elevator. Quinn can feel her arousal getting out of control. She's considering slipping her hand into Santana's barely there underwear. Just when her need to touch Santana is about to win out, the elevator dings once again. Quinn takes a step back to allow Santana to readjust herself before the doors open. When they do, she backs out slowly, her eyes never leaving the sexy woman in front of her.

"Stay with me tonight," Santana requests.

"I can't," Quinn whispers in response.

The doors close, effectively breaking whatever spell had a hold on them both. Santana sighs and rides the elevator up, dejected that she's going to her room alone.

...

Santana opens the door to her luxury suite. She doesn't turn on any lights. Instead, she pulls back the curtains and allows the lights of The Strip to illuminate the room. It had been forever since she had been to Vegas. She would usually fly over on a whim when L.A. didn't have the type of party she was looking for. This Vegas trip was different. This time around, Santana was there to work and spend time with Quinn. Quinn. Ever since the video shoot, Santana could feel the change between them. It wasn't glaringly obvious, but if you were paying attention, you could see the shift in their dynamic. Then there was this evening. She and Quinn navigated the social landscape so effortlessly together. Like they had been doing it forever. It only solidified in her mind that the two of them were perfect for each other. If only she could make Quinn see sense. Santana enters the bedroom and starts to remove her jewelry. She hears a faint knock and lets out another sigh. She is not in the mood to deal with people right now. She is pleasantly surprised to find Quinn on the other side. Santana can see a distressed look on her face and is immediately concerned.

"What's wrong Quinn?" she asks.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course. Come on."

Santana opens the door wider to allow Quinn to enter. Santana swiftly closes the door behind her, eager to find out what's troubling the blonde.

"Are you hunger? I could order us,"

The rest of Santana's sentence gets lost on Quinn's lips. She has Santana pinned to the door and is kissing her with a passionate fervor. Santana is stunned for but a second. Then her brain finally catches up to what is happening to her body and she spurs into action. She cups Quinn's cheeks and allows her to kiss her deeper. Quinn hikes Santana's dress up once more and grabs a handful of her ass. She silently thanks whoever invented thong underwear as her fingers play across the supple flesh. Quinn gives it a squeeze and Santana groans into her mouth. Quinn slowly rolls her pelvis into Santana's and feels her groan again. Not satisfied with the amount of skin she currently has access to, she goes in search of the zipper on Santana's dress. She feels around for a second and congratulates herself when she finds it. She moves on to place kisses on the exposed area in between Santana's breast and gives the zipper a gentle tug. The zipper barely moves. She tugs again with the same result.

"Is this dress yours or was it borrowed to you?" she murmurs against Santana's skin.

"What?" Santana asks, not sure if she heard her correctly.

"Is it yours or did you borrow it?" Quinn repeats.

"It's mine," Santana answers, confused why Quinn would pick now to discuss fashion.

Quinn places both hands on the back of Santana's dress and rips it enough to be able to remove it.

"I owe you a new one," Quinn mumbles on Santana's lips.

Santana's hands end up back in Quinn's hair, completely turned on by how sexy that just was. Quinn steps back an inch to allow the dress to fall to the ground. She takes in the sight of Santana standing against the door in nothing but a tiny thong and heels. She had spent many hours imagining what Santana looked like naked. The reality far surpassed the fantasy.

"Every inch of you is spectacular," Quinn comments.

She presses back into Santana, kissing her with even more fervor than before. Hands wander over the newly exposed flesh. Quinn cups her breasts and lets her thumb play across the nipples. Santana stops kissing Quinn and inhales sharply. She doesn't breathe for what feels like minutes. Her hips keep rolling into Quinn, causing both women to moan at the pressure. Quinn keeps manipulating the soft mounds, kissing just below Santana's neckline. She wants to make sure she has Santana in a frenzy before she gives her what they both really want. When she has Santana almost to the point of begging, Quinn releases her breasts and moves down. She gets to Santana's thong and gingerly yanks it off. Free from all barriers, Quinn runs a finger through Santana's folds. She can hear Santana mumbling something, but she's not quite sure what she's saying. She's too lost in the velvety wetness on her fingertip. Quinn circles her opening once, then twice, gathering the ever growing moisture as she goes. She moves a single digit to Santana's clit and stops.

"Fuck," Santana groans.

"Ask me nicely," Quinn says.

"Por favor."

Quinn pauses. She's not sure if it's the accent or the sexy lilt in the words Santana says. The way they roll off of her tongue catches Quinn completely off guard. Quinn can't recall ever hearing anything in her life as enticing as Santana speaking Spanish. It's enough to send Quinn into overdrive. She runs her finger back and forth over Santana. Santana's eyes have long closed and she has her head thrown back against the door. Her breaths are coming in short gasps and Quinn knows she has her on the edge. She moves her hand down and enters Santana swiftly. Santana starts to buck her hips, pushing Quinn deeper inside of her.

"You like that don't you?" Quinn asks.

"Yes."

"I want to hear you say it baby," Quinn demands.

She adds another finger and quickens her pace.

"Fuck! Oh I like it. So damn much," Santana grits out.

Quinn groans at Santana's confession. She sinks her teeth into Santana's shoulder as she feels the first signs of her impending orgasm.

"Quinn," Santana gasps.

"God Santana, come for me please," Quinn pleads.

Quinn keeps stroking her as she watches the breathtaking way Santana's face contorts as she climaxes. Santana's mouth is open but not a sound is coming from it. Quinn holds her body as it shakes. She moves the thumb of her free hand to brush away the tears that are escaping from the beautiful woman's eyes. Santana, overcome with emotion, lets out a gentle sob. Quinn moves to embrace her fully, but Santana stops her.

"No baby not yet. Stay there for a while. Please?" she requests.

Quinn keeps her fingers, which are cocooned inside Santana, perfectly still. Neither woman speaks, they just continue to take in the magnitude of the moment. Santana nods her head and Quinn gently removes her digits. Santana grabs her wrist and leads her to the bedroom, still not having said anything. The bedroom is bathed in darkness. Santana moves to turn on the dimmer.

"Don't turn the lights on," Quinn whispers.

Santana hesitates, but honors Quinn's demand. Instead, she moves to draw back the curtain, allowing the luminous glow of The Strip to continue to light their path to ecstasy. Quinn, who is still fully clothed, watches the confident way Santana moves about. She moves like a woman who knows her body is a work of art.

Santana resumes her position next to Quinn at the foot of the bed. She still hasn't spoken. Quinn can feel the subtle shift in the momentum. The passion and intensity is ever present, but the raw need is gone. Santana removes the pins from Quinn's hair, allowing the hay colored strands to fall free. Santana then moves behind Quinn, pressing their bodies close together. She places a hand on Quinn's stomach, the other on her zipper.

"May I?" Santana asks.

Quinn nods her head yes. Her eyes flutter close as Santana slowly pulls the zipper down. Santana gently moves Quinn's hair aside, placing a tender kiss on her shoulder. Quinn holds her breath, awaiting Santana's next move. Santana pushes the straps of Quinn's dress down, watching as it falls at her feet. She offers Quinn a hand, allowing her to completely step out of the dress. Quinn stands before her in nothing but her bra, panties and a pair of pumps. Santana circles around her slowly, taking Quinn in from every angle. She completes the revolution and comes to a stop in front of Quinn. Quinn can feel herself getting self conscious. Although she does her fair share of work to keep herself in shape, her body is no where near as perfect as Santana's. She makes a move to cover herself, but Santana stops her.

"I want to see every inch of that beautiful body. Please don't hide yourself from me," Santana says.

Quinn returns her hands to her sides and allows Santana to continue her perusal. Santana slowly traverses her from head to toe. Quinn can feel herself flush from the look in her eyes.

"You should get an award for how stunning your are," Santana breathes as she gets closer.

Santana runs a finger over the scar right under Quinn's left rib cage, similar to the ones she saw on Quinn's back. Her finger continues on to the one between her belly button and hair line. She knows Quinn has had her fair share of trials. Each mark lays testament to the battles she's fought and over come. Santana is hopeful that at some point, Quinn will trust her enough to share those things with her. She stops her visual appraisal to embrace Quinn, reaffirming to the other woman that this act is about so much more than just the physical. Quinn caress the skin of Santana's back, grateful for the pause in the action. Santana moves to unclasps Quinn's bra.

"Sit down for me baby," Santana says.

Quinn complies, her bra falling along the way. Santana kneels in front of her, running her hands over Quinn's thighs. Santana's eyes wander Quinn's nearly naked body, drinking her all in.

"Quinn," Santana whispers.

Quinn doesn't answer, knowing that Santana's utterance of her name needs no response. Santana runs her fingers through Quinn's hair. The silky stands flow through her fingers as she marvels at the hue of them. She ghosts her fingers over Quinn's face and down her neck. Santana places one of Quinn's legs on her shoulder. She strokes Quinn's foot before placing a kiss on the arch. Her hands and lips travel higher, kissing and caressing along the way. Santana reaches Quinn's panties and inhales deeply. She can smell Quinn's desire through the garment. She places a hot kiss on her mound and groans. Quinn's aroma is better than she remembered. Quinn's hips lurch forward, eager for Santana to continue. She grabs at the sides of Quinn's underwear and edges them down. Santana is touching Quinn so tenderly, as if she is to be revered. She gently nudges Quinn further up the bed.

"Lay down for me sweetheart," she murmurs.

Quinn complies with the request and moans when Santana's body covers hers. Santana quickly captures Quinn's lips within her own. The share a slow, lazy kiss. Santana's hands go back to roaming all over Quinn, being sure to not miss an inch. Her meticulous foreplay is driving Quinn mad. Pleasing Santana had already excited her to no end. The slow, methodical way Santana is exploring her has Quinn teetering dangerously close to the edge. She is pretty sure she is about to come whether Santana touches her or not.

"Santana please," Quinn begs.

"No," Santana whispers.

"Santana."

"No," Santana repeats.

She braces herself on her arms so that they are once again, eye to eye.

"I've waited too long for this to be over too quickly. I promise to give you what you need, but let me have this. Please."

Quinn flops back down in a huff but allows Santana to have her way. Santana is a woman on a mission and Quinn is trying hard to keep up with all the different things she is doing to her. First there's Santana's lips. They're on her neck. Then her collar bone. Then Quinn can feel them lightly tugging on first her left nipple, then her right. Then they're back on her neck. Then her face. Santana's lips find Quinn's once again and she kisses her thoroughly. She kisses her with an ever pressing need. Santana is kissing Quinn into oblivion. Quinn thinks she just might literally die from the feel of Santana's lips brushing hers.

"Open up for me," Santana says.

Quinn's legs immediately spread and she is rewarded with the sensation of Santana's core rubbing against hers. She screams out in pleasure as Santana's lips return to their task of kissing Quinn until she ceases to exist.

While her lips are doing all of this, her hands feel like they are everywhere all at once. They're in Quinn's hair. Then caressing her sides. Then they're cupping her butt, pulling Quinn in harder. Santana's rhythm has picked up now and she keeps a firm grip on Quinn's backside to hit them both at just the right angle. Quinn can barely make sense of what's going on. All she knows is that Santana is quickly sending her over the edge.

"I'm so close San," Quinn cries out.

Santana clutches to her tightly as she feels her own climax coming to the fore. They let go simultaneously, trembling at not only the physical release, but the emotional one as well. As Quinn tries to catch her breath, Santana resumes with her gentle kisses. In between the soft lips meeting her skin are whispered words in Spanish. Although Quinn doesn't know their meanings, Santana's tone communicates what she's trying to convey.

Later, after they're passion has been sated, Quinn lies awake listening to a sleeping Santana on her chest. The soft breaths she's letting out tickle the side of Quinn's breast. Quinn muses how the weight of the smaller woman on her feels so absolutely natural. She strokes Santana's hair as the evening keeps replaying in her mind. They had been building up to this moment for weeks. Hell, from the first time they laid eyes on each other if Quinn was being honest with herself. What is most prominent in Quinn's thoughts are the words Santana continuously uttered to her. She had a pretty good idea what '_te amo_', '_te quiero_' and '_te necesito_' meant. Her chest tightened equally with excitement and fear. Excited at the prospect that Santana might actually be in love with her. Fearful of what being entrusted with such a precious gift might mean.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful responses from the last chapter. It was definitely a labor of love and I'm glad it was received so well. As for this chapter, remember way back in chapter three when I was talking about it being gratuitous and unnecessary and written solely for my pleasure? Yeah, that's about 85% of this chapter. Mind you there are some important issue that perk up and are vital to moving the story along, but most of it is for my own entertainment. And I enjoyed writing every bit of it. Hope you guys like it just as much. As always, read, review, favorite, follow and enjoy.**

**...**

Quinn gently stirs as the first signs of the sun starts to peek over the horizon. She glances down at a still sleeping Santana and smiles. Her long dark tresses are partially covering her face. Her deep breathes cause a few strands to dance as she exhales. The part of Santana's face that Quinn can see looks splendidly serene. She takes a finger and frees her face from the mask of hair. Quinn swallows the lump forming in her throat at the overwhelming sight of Santana in repose. She visualizes waking up to Santana like this every morning before quickly pushing the thought back down. Quinn wants to luxuriate in the moment a little while longer, but nature has a different idea. She tries to maneuver herself in a way as not to wake her slumbering bed mate. Just when she thinks she has slipped out of her grasp, Santana clutches her tighter.

"Where are you going baby?" Santana mutters.

"I need to go to the restroom. Go back to sleep."

Quinn places a kiss on the semi conscious woman's forehead and pads to the bathroom. After relieving herself, she makes her way back into the room to a very much awake Santana.

"Why are you up? It's barely after eight," Santana yawns.

"I just needed to pee. I told you to go back to sleep."

"Well I would have but someone took their soft, warm body out of the bed. There was no way I'd be able to sleep after that," Santana fusses.

Quinn just shakes her head at the adorable pout on Santana's face. Santana is stretched out on her side, head propped up by her hand. She's drowning in a sea of bedsheets and looks positively inviting. Quinn slides back under the covers and mirrors Santana's pose. She leans in and places a peck on her nose. Santana scrunches her face which cause Quinn to giggle.

"Can we talk about something?" Santana asks.

"No," Quinn answers quickly.

"Quinn," Santana whines.

"No, Santana I don't want to talk about last night. Can't we just let it be what it was and not analyze what it means?"

"Even though I would love nothing more than to spend hours on end processing with you, calm down. That's not what I wanted to talk about. At least, not how you're thinking."

"You don't?" Quinn asks, a little embarrassed.

Santana shakes her head no.

"What is it you want to talk about then?" Quinn asks.

"I take it that you identify as straight," Santana starts.

"I do," Quinn confirms.

"So what I want to know is how the hell, straight girl, did you learn to fuck like that?"

Quinn snickers a little.

"I might not be a card carrying, full fledge gay lady like yourself, but I've been know to dabble from time to time," Quinn explains.

"Dabble my ass. You must have studied at the feet of a lesbian guru, because last night was fucking amazing."

"Fucking amazing?" Quinn inquires.

"Fucking amazing," Santana reiterates.

Quinn rolls the two of them over so that she's on top of Santana. She kisses her.

"So you like how I touch you?" Quinn whispers.

Santana can feel herself getting wet from the husky tone in Quinn's voice.

"No," Santana answers.

Quinn pulls back and sees a mischievous look on her face. Santana wants to play.

"So you don't like how I touch you?" she asks again.

"Nope."

"Then maybe you'll like how I lick you,"

Santana groans as Quinn makes a slow descent down her body, making sure to kiss every bit of skin along the way. When Quinn reaches her navel, Santana's legs instinctively fall open.

"You're not even putting up a fight baby," Quinn murmurs.

"What did you just say?"

"That you're not putting up a fight," Quinn repeats.

"No, the part after that."

"Shut up Santana," she orders.

Quinn silences any retort coming out of Santana's mouth the moment her tongue makes contact. Santana moans in wonder, once again in awe, at how skilled Quinn is. She's licking her slowly. Quinn's tongue seeming to search out and find every inch of her. Just when Santana is getting used to the feel, Quinn alters her pace and the movements of her strokes. Santana glances down her body at the blonde mop of hair moving back and forth. Quinn's mouth is doing amazing things to her. Her arousal is reaching staggering heights at the sight and sounds of Quinn going down on her. She starts to swirl her tongue and Santana clenches tightly to the sheets.

"Aw fuck Quinn you're going to make me come."

Quinn hums her consensus at the suggestion into Santana. She wraps her lips around Santana's clit and sucks. Santana's hips buck at the sensation. Quinn picks up her pace and slips her thumb just inside her opening. She doesn't stop until she feels Santana's release on her lips. Quinn laps Santana up, making sure not to miss a drop.

"Dabble my ass," Santana grumbles, hardly able to catch her breath.

...

"I should probably get back to my room and pack," Quinn says.

She and Santana are still wrapped around each other, sharing lazy kisses.

"There's no rush. We're not leaving until tomorrow," Santana says.

She runs her tongue back and forth across Quinn's pulse point. The blonde lets out a low whimper.

"Then I need to at least go and get some clothes," she says.

She wiggles a little, but makes no real effort to get from underneath the smaller woman.

"What do you need clothes for?" Santana asks.

She moves so that she's hovering over Quinn, placing warm, wet lips on her sternum.

"Because now that you have the time, I'd like to actually enjoy Vegas with you."

Santana flicks her tongue across Quinn's nipple until it's hard to the touch.

"Oh God Santana," Quinn moans.

Quinn grips Santana's head tighter as she keeps working the nub over.

"You're not enjoying yourself now?" Santana ask before returning to the task at hand.

"Mmm you know I am but I'd actually like to see the outside of this room at some point today."

Santana release the pink pebble from its delicious torture and sits back on the bed.

"You sick of me already Fabray?"

"Quite the contrary. I just want to take advantage of being able to have your undivided attention. Who knows when we'll have another opportunity like this," Quinn expounds.

"Okay I guess we can do the tourist thing," Santana concedes.

"Thank you. So what do you want to do today?" Quinn asks.

"You," Santana answers cheekily.

"See that's exactly why we need to get up and out of this room. We need some adult supervision because neither one of us has enough self control," Quinn admonishes.

She rolls out of bed and searches for her dress and undergarments.

"Here throw on something of mine instead of trying to wiggle back in your dress," Santana offers.

Quinn takes the pants and shirt from Santana and slips them on.

"I'll be back soon," she says.

"Okay. Take the room key. I'm going to hop in the shower while you're gone. We can order some room service when you get back."

Quinn leaves the suite and quickly makes her way to her own room. She moves about, tossing what she thinks she'll need for the remainder of their trip in a bag. She grabs her phone, thankful that she had the foresight to plug it into the charger, and her laptop and tosses them in the bag as well.

When Quinn lets herself back in, she hears Santana in the shower, belting away.

_I will love you anyway_

_Even if you can not stay_

_I think you are the one for me_

_Here is where you ought to be_

Quinn peaks in the open bathroom door and admires Santana's silhouette through the foggy glass shower door.

_I just want to satisfy you_

_You're not mine I can't deny it_

_Don't you hear me talking baby_

_Love me now or I'll go crazy_

_Whoa sweet thang_

Quinn watches the way Santana is moving, completely unaware that she's being watched. The desire she thought was quelled sparks back up. She quickly strips out of the pants she has on and her underwear. She's in process of removing her shirt to join Santana when she hears the faint ringing of her phone from the other room. She sighs before going in search of the device.

"Hey Danny what's going on?" Quinn answers.

"I take it that you haven't been on your computer this morning," he says.

Quinn almost blurts out that the only thing she's been on for the last several hours is Santana before she catches herself.

"No. Is there a reason I should be?" she asks.

"Check the blog and gossip sites and call me back," he says.

Quinn ends the call and collects her laptop. She gets comfortable on the bed and scrolls through her Twitter timeline while she waits for her laptop to boot up. She notices that she has an unusually large amount of mentions this morning and her pulse starts to race. She taps her fingers nervously, willing her computer to move a little faster. She starts on the always reliable TMZ site. The first thing that pops up is a huge picture of her and Santana in one of their many poses from last night's red carpet. Quinn continues on to the next site. E!Online, Gawker, RadarOnline, Perez Hilton. They were all showing and saying the same thing. '_**Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez's Coming Out Party**'_ seems to be the headline du jour. Quinn calls her agent back faster than she can think.

"Danny you need to call Diane and you need to fix this immediately," Quinn barks into the phone.

A freshly showered Santana smiles at her still singing as she dries her hair.

_You are my heat_

_You are my fire_

_Make me weak with strong desire_

_Love you child my whole life long_

_Be it right or be it wrong_

"Quinn I already have and we're all over this. Anything in particular you want to say?" he asks.

"No. Just make sure this situation doesn't get any worse."

She abruptly hangs up and returns Santana's smile with a slight one of her own.

"Do I even want to know?" Santana asks.

"Have you seen the latest headlines?"

Quinn shows Santana her laptop screen. She quickly scans the page and frowns.

"Our coming out party huh? Sorry to disappoint, but I came out years ago," Santana chuckles.

Quinn is not amused in the least with the jovial tone in Santana's voice.

"I'm glad this is so funny to you," Quinn gripes.

"I'm sorry, but I don't see what the problem is. Actually these turned out better than I expected," Santana says.

She continues scrolling through the pictures, beaming at how good she and Quinn looked together.

"The problem is that the media alluding to us being a couple is a P.R. nightmare for me."

Santana is more than taken a back that Quinn is implying to the fact that she doesn't want anyone to view them in a romantic capacity. Quinn notices the anger flaring up in Santana's eyes. She hops off of the bed and grabs her around the waist.

"San that's not what I meant and you know it."

Santana tries to break free of Quinn's hold, which cause her to squeeze Santana tighter.

"Than what exactly do you mean Quinn?" she presses.

"What I meant was," Quinn pauses to place a kiss below the Latina's ear.

"That I want to have time to enjoy this. Whatever '_this_' is turning out to be," she continues.

Quinn leads Santana to the bed before giving her a gentle push. In one swift move, she straddles Santana and removes the shirt she had on. Santana watches, mesmerized by the way Quinn's breast bounce as the shirt passes over them. Quinn shakes out her hair and leans in to place a searing kiss on Santana's lips.

"I want to enjoy getting to know you on this level," Quinn whispers.

She blazes a feather light trail down Santana's neck. Quinn hooks a finger in Santana's towel, loosening the knot in it.

"It'll be too much pressure with the media scrutinizing our every move," Quinn explains.

She continues her journey down with an open mouth kiss to Santana's collar bone.

"Quinn don't think every time we're trying to have an important conversation you can just go down on me and the topic will be settled."

"Mm hmm," Quinn mumbles against her stomach.

Santana takes in a sharp breath when she feels Quinn's tongue on her and wonders how she got that far that fast. She lets go a soft sigh and relaxes into the bed. She'll let Quinn have her way just this once.

...

"I'm looking forward to having you to myself all day," Quinn says.

After bringing Santana to her second and third orgasm of the morning, and a short nap in between, they both managed to keep their hands to themselves long enough to shower and dress.

"I know right. No phones. No distractions. No needing to get to set. Just you and me."

Quinn smiles over her shoulder at Santana, who is currently styling her luscious locks.

"Maybe we should go out for something to eat instead of ordering room service," Quinn suggests.

"I think that might be a good idea as well. Otherwise the only thing we might end up eating is each other," Santana quips.

She finishes her hair and puts her brush on the dresser. Santana turns to see Quinn, in the middle of putting on her necklace, mouth agape.

"Santana! Must you have such a vulgar mouth," Quinn chastises.

Santana takes over for Quinn and fastens the simple gold chain around Quinn's neck.

"Don't go getting all prim and proper on me now Fabray. I know how dirty your mouth can be."

Mission accomplished, she kisses Quinn's shoulder, then her cheek. Quinn takes a moment to admire herself in the mirror before responding.

"You don't know the half sweetheart. But if you're good, I might show you some time."

She tosses Santana a wink before sauntering into the living room. Santana shudders at the thought of what Quinn is suggesting. She follows behind the blonde, eager for the rest of her day with the unpredictable Quinn Fabray.

...

"While you were in the shower, I managed to arrange a few surprises for us," Santana says.

She and Quinn are cruising down Las Vegas Boulevard in their chauffeured SUV for the day. Tank sits quietly in the row of seats in front or them, otherwise occupied.

"I'm waiting with bated breath to find out what shenanigans we'll be getting into today."

"I made a few calls and my good friend Mario happens to be in town. I figured we could have lunch at his restaurant before we go shopping," Santana proposes.

"Mario? That wouldn't be Mario Batali would it?"

"Maybe," she taunts.

"You do know a little bit of everyone don't you?"

"It pays to be popular," Santana boasts.

They pull up outside of the restaurant and are quickly ushered inside. The maitre d' leads them to their table and informs them that Signore Batali will be with them soon.

"Boun Pomeriggio ladies," Mario greets.

He hugs Santana firmly and kisses both of her cheeks.

"Mario, how are you?" she asks.

"I'm wonderful. Nice of you to stop by," he gushes.

"You know I couldn't come to town without passing through here."

"I'm glad I could catch you. So how is everyone?" Mario asks.

"They are doing well. My mother took your advice and tried your recipe for bolognese. She swears by it now. It was so good that my father proposed to her again."

Mario lets out a full belly laugh.

"I'm glad to hear it. Please send them my love," he says.

He steps closer to a waiting Quinn and places a kiss on each one of her cheeks.

"The exquisite Miss Quinn Fabray. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise Mr. Batali. I'm a huge fan of yours," Quinn says.

"Please call me Mario," he insists.

After a little more pleasant conversation, Mario has the women sit and informs them that he is preparing a four course meal to delight their tastebuds. He does not disappoint in the least. They are well into their third course and Quinn can't remember the last time she had a meal this resplendent. She is chattering away to Santana about how this particular course reminds her of her trip to Italy, but her dinner companion is just staring at her.

"San is my story really that boring?" Quinn asks.

"If I could, I'd have you right here on this table," Santana utters.

Quinn can feel the heat coming from Santana in waves. She takes a drink from her water glass. She doesn't know how she mistook the lustful look in Santana's eyes for boredom.

"If I recall correctly, you have. Not this particular table of course," Quinn comments.

"I'm trying to behave like you asked me to, but you aren't making it easy for me."

"But I'm not doing anything. All I'm doing is enjoying this lovely meal that Mario painstakingly prepared for us," Quinn says casually.

"I know but I can't stop watching your lips. The way they wrap around your fork. Then there's the way you purse them while taking a sip from your glass. How us it that you make the most mundane of tasks look so appealing?"

Quinn doesn't answer. Instead, she smiles mirthfully as she takes another sip of her wine. She makes sure to give Santana a smoldering look over the rim of her glass as she drinks. Santana licks her lips and grips the edge of the table. Quinn takes another sip and delights at the flavors playing across her tongue.

"Well if you're a good girl and finish your meal, I just might let you have dessert," Quinn announces.

Santana raises a brow, her curiosity clearly roused.

"I do have a bit of a sweet tooth. Depends on what's on the dessert menu," she says.

"Me. However and wherever you want me."

Santana waits for about all of ten seconds before she lunges for Quinn. The blonde stops her forward motion with a hand to Santana's shoulder.

"Patience San. You'll have me soon enough. You obviously went to a lot of trouble making these plans for the day. I would like to experience everything you have in store."

Santana takes a seat, not liking to be made to wait.

"I'll be patient, but when I finally do get to have you, all bets are off."

...

"Good afternoon Miss Lopez, Miss Fabray."

An immaculately dressed woman hands them both a glass of champagne.

"My name is Veronica, I'm the manager. As per your request, the store has been completely shut down. There is only myself and my assistant present."

Quinn marvels at the fact that Santana managed to get the entire store shut down so they could shop in peace. Tank stands patiently by the door while a string of paparazzi stand outside, snapping pictures.

"Feel free to shop at your leisure and if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask."

With that Veronica gives the women a little space to browse. Quinn and Santana meander about, commenting on the different things that catch their eye. Santana lightly clasps Quinn's hand in her own as they walk, not even realizing that she's done so. That is until Quinn immediately drops it.

"What's the matter?" Santana asks.

"We're in public," Quinn states.

"So."

"There are paps everywhere," Quinn says.

"Yes but they're outside of the store. See."

Santana motions to the line of paparazzi milling about outside the windows, cameras still flashing every few seconds.

"But they can still see inside," Quinn points out.

"So," Santana says, still at a lost at what Quinn is trying to get at.

"I don't want them to misconstrue our touching into something that it isn't," Quinn elaborates.

"Oh. I understand."

"San."

"No it's cool Quinn. I'm only good enough to touch you when we're behind closed doors."

Quinn glances over to where Veronica and her assistant are standing. They appear to be otherwise engaged, but in the empty store, she's well aware of how easily she and Santana's voices can carry. Quinn grabs one of Santana's arms and drags her into the changing area. Quinn opens her mouth to speak but Santana shuts her down.

"Save it Quinn because I don't want to hear it," Santana fumes.

"Santana," Quinn pleads.

"No. Just stop. That is the second time today that you insinuated that you're not comfortable being seen as anything more than my friend. This might be all fun and games to you, but this is very serious to me. I don't want to be your gal pal. This isn't just some fling or something for me to do in the mean time. I want you Quinn Fabray. Not only that, but I love,"

Quinn's eyes widen as Santana catches herself. She is so swept up in the heat and emotion of the moment that she almost reveals her innermost self.

"I care about you a great deal," Santana continues.

Quinn swallows hard at the tiny glimpse of hurt in the younger woman's eyes. Santana needs her reassurance. Quinn knows this isn't the time to play hard to get.

"This is serious for me too," Quinn confesses.

"Then don't act like your ashamed to be seen with me in public."

Quinn steps closer to Santana and rubs her arms gently.

"You're right and I'm sorry. I'm just not really used to PDA. I've never been with someone where I could be that way with them. We've been having such a lovely time together and I don't want to ruin it. Can we just drop the whole thing and start over?"

Quinn continues the gentle caresses and Santana can feel her anger starting to dissipate.

"Okay," Santana concedes.

"Can I have a kiss?" Quinn asks sweetly.

Santana nods yes and Quinn leans in to give her a lingering kiss.

"You see there, we resolved an issue and I didn't even have to go down on you," Quinn whispers against her lips.

Santana clutches Quinn's waist and kisses her harder. She snakes her tongue slowly in Quinn's mouth, darting in and out. Quinn moans, remembering Santana doing the exact same thing with her tongue but lower. She lets her tongue caress Santana's, eliciting a muffled cry from the other woman. Santana's hands wander all over Quinn's frame, landing on her ass. She massage the firm flesh in between her hands while she wonders if she can talk Quinn into having sex in the Louis Vuitton store.

"Is everything all right?" Veronica asks.

The women quickly jump apart.

"Yes thank you. We'll be right out," Santana answers.

Quinn looks like she wants to be swallowed up by the floor.

"I think you might have been right. We do actually need constant adult supervision," Santana jokes.

She and Quinn head back into the main part of the store. Santana is careful not to grab Quinn's hand again. They browse separately for a little while. Santana is trying to decide between five different pairs of sunglasses. She looks for Quinn for her opinion and finds her pining over a gorgeous handbag.

"I take it you like that one?" Santana comments.

"I do but there's no way I could bring myself to pay this much for a bag, no matter how beautiful it is."

"Quinn do you want it?" Santana asks.

Quinn turns it around in her hands a few times, sighing at the feel of the soft leather.

"Yes."

"Then it's yours," she declares.

"Santana, I couldn't asks you to do that. With the trip, the dress, lunch, the hotel room I'm not even staying in. I couldn't possibly accept anything more."

Santana motions for Veronica, who hastily comes over.

"I'll take this bag, all of these sunglasses, those three scarves, that blouse and the shoes I picked out earlier."

"Certainly Miss Lopez."

Veronica takes Santana's black card and proceeds to ring everything up.

"Now you have to take it. I've already paid for it and I'm pretty sure they have a strict policy on returns," Santana asserts.

Quinn embraces Santana, touched by her generosity. The younger woman is surprised by the public show of affection, but welcomes it none the less. She returns Quinn's hug with just as much enthusiasm.

"Thank you," Quinn whispers.

"Anything for you baby."

...

After the late lunch, shopping and a few rounds down at the tables, the women are more than a little worn down. They amble into the elevator and wait for the doors to close.

"I'm not coming off as too forward by assuming that you're staying in my room, am I?" Santana asks.

Quinn pushes the button for Santana's floor. She then wraps her arms around Santana's neck. Quinn pecks her lips a few times.

"I want to spend the remainder of this trip just like this. And don't think that I have forgotten that I've promised you dessert."

Santana grins and the pair proceed to make out like two teenagers under the bleachers. They barely manage to make it to Santana's room, hardly able to stop their intimate lip lock as they stumble down the hall. Once inside, Santana pushes Quinn down on the sofa.

"Ive been aching to get you alone all day," Santana growls.

She unzips her skirt and lets it fall at her feet. Quinn is eagerly unbuttoning her own shirt, her desire and anticipation matching Santana's. Quinn's phone rings out, once again, interrupting sexy time.

"Son of a bitch," Quinn mutters.

She tries to remember where she left it last, finding it on the nightstand in the bedroom. She answers it before it can go into voicemail.

"Danny can you hang on for a second," she says.

Quinn mutes the phone and makes her way back to the living room. She stands right in front of Santana and tilts her head to thoroughly kiss her.

"Don't move a muscle. I'll make this quick."

She takes her call in the bedroom to afford herself a little privacy.

"Updating me on last night's fiasco already?" Quinn asks.

"Not yet, but have you seen Santana today?" Danny asks.

Quinn pauses for a second.

"Umm yeah she's been around," she finally replies.

"Then you've already heard the news," he says.

"No Danny will you just tell me what in the world is going on," Quinn says, irritated.

"The protestors numbers have grown astronomically in size in the last couple of days and it appears that they've attracted every nut job in a fifty mile radius. There's been a bomb threat on studio."

"What!" Quinn exclaims.

"Production is being shut down until the situation is neutralized," Danny says.

"You can't be serious," Quinn grouses.

"I'm afraid that I am. I'm trying to get some other things in motion for you in case this whole thing falls through. I'll call you back when I make some headway."

Quinn hangs up before letting out a loud screech. She walks back into the living room to find Santana right where she left her.

"I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, but it didn't sound like a pleasant conversation," Santana notes.

Quinn lets out a long sigh, not wanting to be the one to break the news to her.

"You need to call Noah, like now. I'm pretty sure you have a few missed calls from him."

Santana goes looking for her cell and Quinn is sure that she's going to regret their '_no phones_' agreement for the day. Santana reappears, already returning Puck's dozen missed phone calls. Quinn watches as Santana paces back and forth and muses if that's something she does when she's upset. She talks to Noah for all of five minutes, but the entire conversation is nothing more than a string of profanities. Quinn doesn't think she's ever heard some one put together curse words as colorfully as Santana. She ends her call and regards Quinn.

"This is a load of shit if I've ever heard it," Santana rants.

Quinn nods in agreement.

"And who knows how long it'll take before production will start up again. I need this movie to be made. Everything I want to do moving forward is riding on this," Santana says.

Quinn watches her stalk to and fro while she ponders her own dire situation. What is she going to do if this movie ultimately gets canned?

"I guess I'll just have more free time to write," Santana says thoughtfully.

Quinn wishes she was as fortunate to have something else to fall back on.

"What do you plan on doing?" Santana asks.

"I'll probably go home to New York in the mean time."

That was enough to get Santana to stop. She was just getting to see Quinn in plain view, clear from any impediments or obstructions. There was no way she was going to let her slip through her fingers.

"New York? But why?" Santana probes.

"The studio isn't going to pay for me to stay at the Chateau while they get this situation figured out and I can't afford to stay there long term."

"Come stay with me," Santana offers.

"I don't know," Quinn hesitates.

"Quinn I have a six bedroom home. I can only sleep in one bed at a time and I'm usually there alone. You'd be doing me a favor by staying. You'd be saving me from my solitude."

"I don't think it's a good idea San."

"Why not?" Santana presses.

"Well for starters, we aren't dating," Quinn brings up.

"Im aware of that."

"And it's painfully obvious that we have an unyielding physical attraction to each other," Quinn reminds her.

Santana chuckles at Quinn's gross understatement of their connection.

"Im well aware of that as well."

"Add all those things together and it's an equation for a complicated mess," Quinn finishes.

"But it doesn't have to be. Our relationship, or lack there of, is only as complicated as we make it."

Quinn looks like she's mulling the idea over. Santana takes advantage of the silence to press her point.

"You'd have your own room. Your own space. Just because we've spent the majority of our time here in bed together doesn't mean I expect it to continue. Don't get me wrong, I want nothing more than to be able to taste and touch you at my pleasure. If that isn't want you want though, I'm cool with it. No pressure remember."

Santana can tell that Quinn is teetering towards a yes.

"So say I do take you up on your offer. What am I supposed to do about my mother? She's due to come visit next week," Quinn questions.

"She can stay at the house too. Six bedrooms Quinn. That's more than enough room."

"Santana I couldn't imposes like that," Quinn says.

"Then it's a good thing that it was my idea."

"Okay," Quinn mumbles.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, it's a yes," Quinn surrenders.

Santana's mouth forms the hugest grin. Quinn's heart flutters at how happy the prospect of them living together has made Santana. Quinn finishes removing her shirt and steps out of her shorts. She frees Santana of her shirt and places a kiss on her chest, right over her heart.

"You are about to get so lucky," Quinn proclaims.

Quinn's lips mingle with Santana's as she deftly frees her of her top.

"Thank you baby," Quinn murmurs.

"Quinn did you just," Santana begins.

"Santana," Quinn scolds.

"I know, I know. I'm shutting up."

...

Later the next morning, after finally disengaging from each other, the two check out and head back to Los Angeles. Santana is lightly napping while Quinn stares out the window. Quinn keeps thinking back to the activities of the weekend. As she stripped to shower this morning, she noticed two deep dark love bites on her body. She doesn't know when they happened and how she hadn't noticed them before now. Quinn usually thought of hickies as being trashy and warned former lovers against leaving such marks. There was something about why Santana left them and where, one just below her clavicle and the other on her inner thigh, that had her feeling a small since of pride. Knowing that she had elicited such intense desire from Santana had her quite elated. She admired them equally dismayed and thrilled at the brazen reminders of their passion. But it wasn't just passion that they exchanged. It was something more. Quinn ponders long and hard about Santana's declarations of affection. She also thinks about what she can do to assure Santana that this is just as important to her.

"San are you sleeping?" Quinn asks.

"Yes," she mumbles.

"If you're sleeping how did you answer me," Quinn points out.

"Now you're just nit picking," Santana answers.

"Can we talk about something?" Quinn asks.

"Oh now you want to talk?" Santana jokes.

"I was just thinking that I'm going to Mercedes and Sam's wedding and you're going to Mercedes and Sam's wedding,"

"Mm hmm."

"So maybe we could go together," Quinn suggests.

Up until this point, Santana still had her head leaned back and her eyes closed. The latest development was cause for her to pop up and look at Quinn.

"Like as your date?" Santana asks.

"No as my seeing eye dog. Yes as my date," Quinn clarifies.

"Quinn Fabray are you asking me on a date?" Santana teases.

"You know what, never mind."

Quinn turns to look back out the window. It took all her courage to ask Santana out and the younger woman was taking it as a joke. Santana recognizes that she took the playful ribbing a little too far. She quickly unbuckles herself and hops out of her seat. She kneels directly in front of Quinn. Quinn's eyes are still glued to the clouds that are passing them by. Santana softly caress her chin to bring Quinn's attention back to hers.

"Quinn, baby I'm sorry," Santana apologizes.

"I'm being serious Santana."

"I know you are Q Bear. I'd love to be your date for the wedding."

"Q Bear?" Quinn asks.

"What? I think it's cute. Don't you?"

Quinn thinks about it for a moment.

"Yes, I think it's very cute."

"Can I kiss you?" Santana asks.

"Yes."

Santana leans in and presses her lips to Quinn's. It's starts off gentle and sweet, but soon grows in intensity.

"Have you ever joined the mile high club?" Santana whispers against her lips.

"No."

"How would you like to be initiated now?" she asks.

Quinn leans in and kisses Santana again, leaving her breathless. She unbuckles herself and leads Santana back towards the sleeping quarters of the plane.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello all of my beautiful people.** **First**,** I would like to thank you for all the continued love and support. It took me forever with this chapter because the tone wasn't cohesive enough for my liking. But I've fiddle with it to death and I don't want to ruin it. So this is what I've come up with. The revelation of some of Quinn's backstory begins. I know you're going to have questions, but I purposely left some things out. They will be revealed as the story continues. Have patience my lovelies. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

**...**

Quinn is a ball of nerves. The captain had announced that they were preparing for their final descent into Los Angeles fifteen minutes ago. Ever since the words left his mouth, she felt an uneasy panic start to take over her. The last couple of days in Las Vegas with Santana had been nothing short of a fantasy. It was like something out of a dream. They were in their own little bubble and Quinn was admittedly afraid of going back to the real world. She had some apprehension to what the harsh realities of every day life were going to do to her budding relationship, if you could call it that, with Santana.

Santana, on the other hand, is blissfully unaware of the struggle that Quinn is going through. After initiating Quinn into the mile high club a few times, she is relaxed and carefree. She doesn't have the baggage of worry and doubt bogging her down. She, too, felt like her weekend with Quinn was a dream come true. Unlike Quinn, she feels like their return to California is only letting the dream play out in real life. On top of all that she has convinced Quinn to live with her, if only temporarily. With all the obstacles Santana was facing in her professional life, it was nice to have something going well in her personal one.

The wheels of the private jet touch the runway and Quinn feels physically ill. Her stomach is queasy and she thinks that she might vomit. She closes her eyes and wills her insides to behave. The plane comes to a stop and Santana hops up, eager to get things in motion. She unbuckles herself as their bags are taken off of the aircraft to be transported to the waiting car. Santana notices the sickly look of Quinn's face.

"Sweetie are you okay?" Santana asks.

"Yeah I'm fine. It was kind of bumpy when we were coming down. I think I got a little motion sickness," she fibs.

"That landing was sort of rough. You would think with all the money I spend on these things that the pilot would be halfway decent."

They collect what few belongs they brought on board and move to disembark from the plane. They walk across the tarmac to the main airport.

"Shit," Santana says lowly.

"What is it?" Quinn asks.

Santana is walking ahead of her and Quinn is craning her neck to catch a look at what has the woman so flustered.

"Oh to be back in L.A. Home of sunshine, palm trees and swarming vultures, also known as the media."

Santana gestures ahead of them, where inside there are about a few dozen paps waiting.

"You ready to head back into the fray?" Santana asks.

Quinn gives her an unsteady head nod. Santana reaches out to take Quinn's hand in hers, but immediately drops it. Quinn notices the action and winces. She knows Santana is battling her natural inclination to comfort her. She also knows that the only reason Santana is doing it is because of her own discomfort with them being publicly affectionate. Quinn can't help but feel a little guilty because of it.

The women keep their heads down and move quickly through the airport. The entire time the paparazzi are shouting all kinds of question.

"_Santana how long have you and Quinn been dating_?"

"_Is Santana the only woman you've ever been with_?"

"_Santana are you and Quinn exclusive?"_

"_Quinn how long have you been a lesbian?"_

The last question causes Quinn to cringe a little. Exactly what she was afraid of happening is playing out right before her eyes. She glances at Santana's face to see how she's reacting to all of this. The other woman looks void of any emotion as she keeps her eyes straight ahead. They hop in the car and are soon whisked away from all the madness.

"I think it's insane how they just hang out at the airport, waiting for someone famous to pop up. I think it should be illegal," Santana complains.

Quinn quietly stares out of the window, lost in a world of her own thoughts. The light touch of Santana's fingers on the back of her hand break her out of her trance. She turns to see a puzzled look on Santana's face.

"I'm sorry what did you say?" Quinn asks.

"I asked what's going on with you. You've been acting strange ever since we got on the plane," Santana says.

It was true that Quinn had felt a bit uneasy ever since they started the journey back to L.A. She just thought she had been doing a better job of masking it. Apparently not.

"I'm sorry. My mind is just a jumble of all the things that I need to accomplish in the coming week or so," Quinn answers.

"So I was thinking I'll drop you off at the Chateau and send Tank back around to get you and your belongings. Is three hours enough time?" Santana asks.

Quinn hadn't planned on moving right into Santana's the second they got back in town. She assumed that she'd at least have the rest of the day to herself and then start the process tomorrow. She was about to suggest just that, but the look in Santana's eyes stopped her. The younger woman looked nothing short of elated and Quinn didn't have it in her to crush her good mood.

"Um sure, that sounds like a sufficient amount of time," she answers.

Santana's smile grows and Quinn's trepidation seems to increase right along with it. Santana starts to ramble on, but Quinn can't follow a word she's saying. All she can hear is the fears that keep bouncing around in her brain, screaming at her that she's making a mistake. She looks at Santana again and swallows down her anxiety. Quinn doesn't think she's ever seen Santana this excited about anything. She decides to push her own feelings to the side for the time being and let come what may. As much as her own concerns are eating away at her, there's something in her that won't allow her to disappoint Santana in any way.

Quinn makes short working of packing her belongs, double checking to make sure she doesn't leave anything behind. She also arranges to have her mother come later in the week, giving her time to adjust in her new place of residence. Three hours later, she's skimming through a magazine when Tank arrives. He promptly gathers her things and they are off to Santana's.

"I think it's really dope of you to come stay with Santana," Tank says.

He's navigating Santana's Escalade through the early evening traffic. Quinn scrunches her brow, not really sure what he means.

"Uh thanks I guess, but she's the one who invited me," Quinn clarifies.

"As her bodyguard, I spend the most up close and personal time with Santana. I'm mostly seen and not heard so it's easy to forget I'm there sometimes. I see a lot and she would kill me if she ever knew I told you this," he starts.

Quinn leans forward as if Tank is about to reveal an elaborate plot and she is a co-conspirator.

"I know that you know that Santana gets around. Everyone always gives her a hard time about it, but they don't understand the reasons why she does what she does," he says.

Quinn waits for him to continue, interested in his take on the behaviors of Santana.

"I think the reason she's always has a new woman in her bed is cause she's kind of lonely. Sure she's surrounded by people all the time, but all of them want something from her. She has very few people who genuinely care about her without some hidden agenda behind it. I know the groupies are pretty much the same, but when you crave human touch, a warm body is a warm body," he elaborates.

"I guess I could see that, but I don't understand how I play into all of this," Quinn says.

"Like I said, I'm often just looked at as scenery. I see how you are around her, especially when you don't think anyone is looking."

Quinn blushes and looks away.

"Don't worry, you're secret is safe with me. I'm just glad that she's going to have someone around who isn't looking for what they can get out of her," Tank finishes.

Quinn is quiet for the duration of the trip. She always knew that Santana was guarded. All of them were to some extent. It was the only way to protect yourself in this crazy business. What she didn't know was how open Santana really was in regards to her.

Tank stops at the guard house of the gated community Santana lives in. Quinn takes a look at her surroundings and can tell they are in Malibu. After they get the all clear, Tank drives them down the road. They stop again as he enters a passcode and the gates to Santana's home open. Quinn nods her head in appreciation, already overawed with the house. Tank makes a stop in the circle drive of a beautiful Spanish style home. Santana is waiting at the door with a smile that's bigger than the one she had earlier, if that's even possible. Tank helps her out of the back and goes to get her things.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Santana says.

Quinn continues to stare in wonder as she enters the grand foyer. The floors are marble and tasteful art covers the walls. There is a huge spiral staircase that divides the home in half.

"Come on, let me give you the tour," Santana offers.

She grabs Quinn's hand and takes her through the house. They view the formal dining and living rooms. Santana also shows her the kitchen, the movie theater, fitness room, family room and her in home office. As they venture from room to room, Quinn notices the theme of light browns and different variations of white carry through out. Santana mentions the garage and lets Quinn know that she has free reign on using any car that she pleases. She is then taken to the backyard. It looks like something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. The area, complete with an array of outdoor luxuries and an infinity pool, was certainly made for entertaining. The lawn stops right at a cliff's edge, with a clear view of the Pacific as a back drop. They head back inside to the lower level of the house.

"And this is what many have infamously named the 'Boom Boom Room'," Santana smiles.

She opens the two sliding doors to reveal a large room that takes up almost half of the lower level. It's complete with a dance floor, d.j. booth, a bar, couches and chairs spread throughout and right smack in the middle is a stage and a stripper pole.

"Only you would have a pole in your basement," Quinn remarks.

"I told you it's a great workout. I have a private instructor that comes by once a week. You should join us some time," Santana suggest.

She leads Quinn back to the upper level of the house. She shows Quinn the guest rooms and the second master bedroom, which Quinn will be staying in. Santana then leads her a few doors down the hall.

"This is my second favorite room in the house."

She takes Quinn to her study. It's a smaller room that has a very warm feeling to it. Two of the four walls are floor to ceiling bookcases. The third is covered with a huge bay window and a fireplace is on the fourth. Quinn steps closer to skim the contents of the bookcases. On one of them, there is an array of books. Quinn notices some of her favorites and finds it a little bedazzling that she and Santana have similar taste in literature. Quinn peruses the other case, which houses a rather impressive record collection and a beautiful record play. She runs her fingers over the records, browsing over the different types of music that are available. Santana seems to have a little bit of everything from classical to show tunes. Quinn can already see why this particular room is one of Santana's favorites. They make their way to the final stop on their tour, the master bedroom.

"This is my room. I would say it's where the magic happens, but that line has been done to death," she says.

Santana walks in and takes a seat on the bed. She allows Quinn the space to look around, touch things as she goes, getting a feel of Santana's inner sanctum. Santana's eyes travel along the lines of Quinn's body as she moves about. It had only been hours since they last touched, but her insatiable need for the blonde is ever present. Santana steps closer and lets her finger tips tickle the length of Quinn's spine, coming to rest on her behind.

"San?"

"Hmm," she answers, currently preoccupied with the cheek she's fondling.

"I think we should put a pause on being physical with each other," Quinn suggests.

She side steps Santana's wayward hand. It had been playing in the back of her mind that things were moving too fast between them. She needed to take a step back to be able to think clearly.

"But why?" Santana whines.

Quinn has to hold back the laugh that's threatening to escape. Santana looks like a toddler who is about to lose their favorite toy.

"Because we have forayed into cohabitation and I don't want the lines to get blurry between us," Quinn explains.

"But I like blurred lines," Santana continues to pout.

"Santana, please," Quinn implores.

"Oh alright. Fine," Santana agrees.

Quinn smiles at how easy it was to get Santana to acquiesce. She thought the younger woman would put up more of a fight than that. Little did she know that Santana's easy acceptance was because she was already concocting a plan to seduce her.

After Quinn gets herself settled, she takes a long hot shower, hoping to wash away the misgivings she's continuing to experience about the current situation she has found herself in. When the shower doesn't help, Quinn tries some relaxation exercises. When those fail as well, she roots through her bag for something a little stronger. After a little help in medicinal form, Quinn falls into a fitful sleep.

...

After a week of living together, Quinn's anxieties quickly start to abate. She and Santana have developed an easy routine with each other. Quinn makes them both breakfast while Santana has her daily yoga session. Santana is usually gone most of the day, taking meetings or recording or doing promotional stuff for her album. Quinn has mainly been doing things to insure her mother is absolutely comfortable during her stay. She also has been taking a few meetings, trying to see what project she can line up next. Whoever gets home first usually makes dinner and they would share what adventures they had over the course of the day.

Quinn returns to Santana's late one evening after running errands. She opens the door and enters a dark foyer. She knows Santana is here. All the cars were in the garage when she parked. Besides she had called ahead and told Santana to have dinner without her because she didn't know how long she was going to be. Quinn walks in a little further and can hear music coming softly from the speaker system that's piped throughout the house.

_Touch me baby_

_It feels so amazing_

_As you stimulate me_

_And you make me want you more and more_

Quinn ascends the grand staircase and is met by a trail of rose petals when she gets to the top. She follows the petals to her bedroom and slowly opens the door. There are more petals and a multitude of candles spread about the room. In the middle of it all sits Santana. She's lounge on Quinn's bed with a shapely leg crossed over the other. She looks good enough to eat and Quinn thinks she's being set up.

"Hi," Santana says.

"Santana what is all of this?" Quinn asks.

Santana stands up quickly and crosses the room.

"It's not what you think," she begins.

Quinn gives her a skeptical look, not buying that statement for a second.

"I've noticed you've been tense lately and I wanted help you relax," Santana explains.

"Santana I thought we agreed to halt our physical relationship."

"I don't want to help you relax like that. I want to help you relax like this," Santana says.

She takes Quinn by the hand and leads her to the ensuite bathroom. There are more candles spread throughout the room. A steaming hot bath is waiting for her. The smell of lavender permeates Quinn's nose. A bottle of wine and a glass sit on a corner of the tub.

"Santana," Quinn says softly.

"You have a lot going on right now Q Bear. Between the movie and you preparing for your mom to come. You deserve to be pampered. So get in for as long as it takes for the stress to melt away. I'll be in my room if you need anything."

Santana steps out and softly closes the door behind her. Quinn strips and sinks deep into the water. She closes her eyes and sighs in contentment. After a few moments of laying silently, she notices the music is piped into the bathroom as well. It's the same song from when she first entered the house.

_What do I do, what do I say_

_Does is feel good to you this way_

_I want to be all that you need_

_(Girl) what's your fantasy_

_Better hold on, ready or not_

_Baby my love ain't going to stop_

_Take it down low, make me get high_

Quinn sits up to pour herself a glass of wine. She takes a sip and moans in pleasure. She is once more impressed by Santana's superior taste in wine. She leans back with her glass and continues to listen to the music playing.

_Oh my love goes_

_On and on and on and on and on_

_My love goes_

_On and on and on and on and on_

_My my my my love goes_

_On and on and on and on and on_

_My love goes on_

_On and on and on and on and on_

_See all my love's for you_

Quinn smiles, familiar with the song. After a while, she hums a long. Quinn keeps sipping her wine, luxuriating in the feel of the water around her. At first, the music is just background noise to her bath. Helping to aid in the relaxation process. After hearing the song for what must have been the sixth time in the last thirty minutes, the lyrics start to stir something in her.

_Baby don't you rush me no_

_You got to take it slow_

_Just let the feeling grow_

_Until it overflows_

_Anyway you want it now_

_Just got to tell me how_

_To give you everything_

_You ever dared to dream_

Quinn's transported back to their night in Vegas. She remembers the slow way Santana moved over her body. How she handled her with so much care. Quinn runs her own hand up and down her stomach and bites her lip. She plays with the hair line right above her center, but doesn't go any further. She has an aching desire to touch herself while thinking of Santana. She has an even stronger desire to let said woman do the touching instead. Quinn gets out of the tub, dries and goes in search of Santana. She finds her, as she mentioned before, in her room. She's lounging on her chaise in a short silk robe. The lights are dim and she's seemingly engrossed in the book she's reading. Quinn just watches her. And she hears it again. That damn song is still playing.

_Isn't it bliss to you right now_

_Don't be subdued say it out loud_

_Ain't it a sweet luscious delight_

_When your immersed in my ocean of love_

_Coming on strong_

_Baby I've been waiting so long_

_Revel inside of paradise_

Santana can feel Quinn's presence and looks up. She smiles when she sees the look in the woman's eye. Checkmate.

"Did you enjoy your bath?" Santana asks.

Quinn doesn't answer. Instead she crosses the room and sits next to Santana. She places her book down to give Quinn her undivided attention. Quinn gently caresses Santana's cheek with a single finger. She travels down Santana's jaw, to her neck. The fingertip ventures further down, parting Santana's robe. Quinn's suspicions are confirmed when she sees Santana isn't wearing anything underneath. She undoes the tie around her waist and let's the material fall open. Quinn moves to deposit herself in Santana's lap and kisses her deeply.

_Give me some pure, delectable love_

_Like I'm going to give to you_

_Keep coming around_

_Cause I won't run out_

_I can't get enough of you_

_My love goes_

"Quinn I thought we weren't going to be intimate," Santana says in fake protest.

"Shut up Santana."

Quinn leans in and kisses Santana again and again. Adrift in a sea of passion, they make love several times with the sultry sounds of Mariah Carey as their soundtrack.

...

The next morning Santana finds Quinn in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Quinn is singing lowly and Santana chuckles when she hears the melody from the previous evening. She slides behind Quinn and places kisses on her neck.

"Good morning beautiful."

"Good morning to you too," Quinn purrs.

She turns in Santana's arms and they share a rather chaste lip lock.

"I take it you like that song," Santana smirks.

Quinn smacks her arm a few times.

"You played me and you know it," Quinn accuses.

"I have no idea what it is you are speaking of ma'am."

"So you don't know what I'm talking about?" Quinn asks.

"Not a clue."

"That's okay because payback is a bitch. You won't know when. You won't know how. But be certain that I will get my revenge," Quinn threatens.

"I'm shaking in my boots," Santana jokes.

"Well I hope you enjoyed last night because that most certainly won't be happening again. Especially with my mom coming," Quinn states.

"Seriously Quinn?"

"There is no way I'm having sex with you when she's only a few doors down the hall. Besides, how am I supposed to explain us sharing a bed?" Quinn questions.

"That we're both young and hot and wildly attracted to each other," Santana suggests.

"I'm not telling my mother that. We already concluded that's it's better for us not to have a physical relationship while we're living together."

"We didn't conclude anything. You concluded and I just went along with it because it's easier to get you to do what I want you to when you think it's your idea," Santana smiles smugly.

Quinn mouth hangs open at how correctly Santana has read her. Santana just shrugs her shoulders because she knows she's right and Quinn doesn't have an argument against it.

"Well I will be sleeping in my room and you will be sleeping in yours for the duration of my stay here," Quinn asserts.

"Okay," Santana says.

She kisses Quinn's cheek and grabs a slice of mango from the platter on the counter.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announces.

"Santana I'm serious," Quinn calls out to her retreating form.

"So am I," Santana answers back.

Quinn watches the sway of her hips as she exits the room and is halfway tempted to follow after her.

"Focus Fabray," she says to herself.

Resisting the temptation that is Santana is going to be a lot harder than she thought.

...

"Mom I'm so glad you're finally here," Quinn gushes.

She and Judy are in the back seat of one of Santana's many cars. She opted to have Tank escort her to retrieve her mother, knowing she was going to need some extra help fending off the press.

"I'm glad to be here Quinnie. I must say that was certainly an experience back there at the airport."

Judy is referring to the group of reporters shouting at them and taking their picture as they made their way to the car.

"It must have been a busy news day elsewhere for there to be so few of them. There are usually three times as many of them waiting."

"I'm very excited to be meeting Santana. I can't believe I'm going to be staying in her home," Judy enthuses.

Judy had her fair share of experience with people who were wealthy, but never had she had the chance to have up close and personal time with a celebrity.

"She's excited to meet you as well. She wanted to come with me to pick you up, but she had some work that needed to be done on her album. She should be home in time for dinner."

Judy noticed the way Quinn says '_home_' when mentioning Santana's place. She stores it away in the back of her mind to bring up at a later time. When they make it to Santana's, Quinn laughs at the expression on her mother's face.

"I felt the exact same way the first time I saw this place. Come let me show you where you'll be staying."

Quinn takes her mother to one of the many guest rooms and gets her settled.

"So mom, what would you like to do today?" Quinn asks.

"The flight really took a lot out of me. I just want to rest awhile if that's alright."

"Absolutely. I'm go to get a start on dinner. I'll wake you when it's done," Quinn says.

She closes the door behind her and thinks about what she wants to prepare for her mother's first meal in L.A.

...

"Honey I'm home," Santana jokes as she saunters into the kitchen.

Quinn is at the stove, stirring her sauce.

"Hey you," Quinn says.

"Is your mom here yet?" Santana asks.

"Yes. She's upstairs resting while I get dinner ready."

Santana moves in behind Quinn and wraps her arms around Quinn's waist.

"It smells really good in here," Santana murmurs.

She rubs her nose along Quinn's neck a few times, inhaling deeply.

"The food smells good too," Santana adds.

Quinn giggles before she tries to wiggle free.

"Santana," Quinn scolds.

She reaches around Quinn and lifts the lid on one of the pots to peek instead. Quinn quickly bats her hands away.

"You look like you need something to do with your hands," Quinn says.

"Oh there are plenty of things I want to do with my hands, but you won't let me," Santana comments.

"Smart ass. How about you put the salad together while I finish working on this," Quinn proposes.

The two work together, chatting about their day. The amicable banter soon turns into flirting. Santana has Quinn trapped in between herself and the center island when Judy makes her way to the kitchen. She stands in the doorway and watches the pair interact with each other. She gathers from the look on Santana's face that she's trying to coax Quinn into doing something and Quinn is playfully refusing. Santana whispers something in Quinn's ear that makes her turn a bright red. Judy clears her throat to announce her presence, not want to intrude any further on what appears to be an intimate moment. Santana swiftly moves away from Quinn, while Quinn smiles at her mother. Judy returns the smile, waiting for one of the women to speak.

"Mom, this is Santana Lopez," Quinn starts.

Santana moves closer to Judy, hand outstretched.

"And San this is my mother, Judy Fabray."

Judy swats Santana's hand away and pulls her into a hug. Santana is caught off guard, but recovers quickly enough to return the embrace.

"You have invited me to stay in your home. I think we are well past handshakes, don't you?" Judy asks.

"Yes ma'am I would have to agree. It is my pleasure to be meeting you Mrs. Fabray."

"Likewise my dear and please call me Judy. Mrs. Fabray is my mother-in-law," she says.

"If my mom found out I was calling you by your first name, she'd skin me alive."

"Then if you must, I suppose Mrs. Fabray is alright," Judy concedes.

"How was your nap mom?" Quinn asks.

"It was splendid. What will we be dining on this evening?" Judy inquires.

Quinn ushers her mother into the dinning room where the table has already been set. Santana places the last dish, and a bottle of sparkling water, on the table with the rest of the meal.

"I just sautéed some chicken in a white sauce and some pasta with a salad on the side. I didn't know how much of an appetite you'd have and San doesn't like to eat too heavy late in the day."

Santana pulls out Judy's chair, then Quinn's, before taking her own.

"Everything looks great as usual Q Bear. I mean Quinn," Santana stutters.

Judy laughs under her breath at Santana's slip of tongue. Quinn catches it and blushes.

Dinner conversation is more than cordial, with Judy sharing ever embarrassing story she can think of about Quinn. The easy manner at which the dialogue flows between the trio has Santana thankful for yet another unguarded glimpse of Quinn.

As the evening wears on, Santana observes that Judy's movements have slowed a bit and she seems a little uncoordinated. She also notices, more than once, that Judy will be in the middle of her sentence, then forget what she's talking about. She doesn't pay too much attention to it, chalking it up to jet lag.

"Quinnie you are still a marvelous cook," Judy says.

"Thank you mom."

"She is amazing, isn't she?" Santana says.

She graces Quinn with mega watt smile. Quinn can feel the heat rising on her face, still not used to Santana's open appreciation of her. Judy just sits back and watches as Quinn lights up at the compliment. They finish their meal and both women decline Quinn's offer of dessert.

"I think I'll be retiring to my room for the rest of the evening. You ladies have a good night and Santana thank you again for your hospitality," Judy says.

"My pleasure, Mrs. Fabray."

...

Not too long after clearing the table, Quinn checks in on her mother.

"Did I get everything you needed mom?" Quinn asks.

"Yes you did. Thank you."

Judy is sitting at the vanity, her back turned to her daughter. Quinn watches as her mother removes the false padding from her bra and places it in a box. Quinn soundlessly tracks her mother's actions, noticing the toll the day has taken on her. It disheartens her to see her mother struggle to complete even the simplest of tasks.

"Help me with this?" Judy says, motioning to her bra.

Quinn unsnaps the clasp and turns away to give her mother the privacy she needs to change. She takes in the beautiful view of the night sky while her mother finishes her routine.

"You and Santana seem awfully cosy," Judy says.

Quinn turns to see Judy perched at the and of the bed with a wry smile on her face. Her mother had become very attune, as of late, at reading her emotions. It appeared that Judy was trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"I wouldn't call it cosy. We get along well that's all," Quinn answers.

"You're attracted to her aren't you?" Judy asks.

"Mom," Quinn groans.

Judy pats the spot next to her. Quinn reluctantly takes a seat on the bed.

"I know that we've never had the type of relationship where we shared our feelings much with each other. My illness has brought to light many of my shortcomings as a mother and I hope to rectify some of them while I can."

"Mom you did the best you could under the circumstances," Quinn sympathizezs.

"No. I let your father run roughshod over you and your brother. I certainly should have spoken up for you more than I did. He did a lot of things in regards to you that I didn't agree with. I should have defended you instead of remaining silent."

"It did hurt that you weren't there for me. Especially when I needed you most," Quinn admits.

"Darling you have to understand, I come from an era where wives followed their husbands without question. Be he right or wrong, you backed the decisions he made and kept your opinions to yourself."

"Even if that means shunning your only daughter?" Quinn asks bitterly.

Quinn tries desperately to tamp down the anger that's threatening to break free.

"It was never my intention to ostracized you like that after we found out about your pregnancy. I was just so disappointed. I wanted a better life for you than I had. Yes, marrying your father afforded me many luxuries in life, but I often felt like I had given away my aspirations in the process. You being a teen mother was not my dream for your life. That's still no excuse for being a silent accomplice. I should have made him let you stay in the house. Instead I let him cast you aside as if you were a stranger and not his own flesh and blood. I'm forever grateful to the Joneses for taking you in and loving you as there own, but I can't help but feel like,"

Judy takes a breath as she dabs at her eyes. Quinn is trying hard to fight back her own tears.

"Like if you were home, you would have never gotten into that accident. It tore me apart to see you in the hospital bed, not sure if you were going to live or die. Then for you to have lost the baby. You've never been the same since then. I witnessed the life slowly fade away from your eyes. I had given up the idea of ever seeing you light up again. That was until this last month. Santana has given you your glow back and it's so beautiful to experience again."

At the mention of Santana, Quinn's entire temperament changes.

"It's every mother's wish to see her child, especially her daughter, find someone who makes them truly happy. Santana is that person for you. One only has to spend five minutes in your presence to see how the two of you feel about each other. I know that you'll have a hard road ahead of you if you choose to be with her romantically. A large part of society still doesn't except a relationship such as yours. But it has been my experience that ninety-nine percent of the time the things that are hard fought are the most rewarding. I urge you not to let fear of being ridiculed keep you from someone who so clearly makes your heart sing. Life is too short."

"Mom I'm so scared," Quinn whispers.

"It's ok to be afraid. Fear keeps us safe. But some times fear holds us back. Don't let fear be the guiding force in your life. You run the risk of missing out on so much if you do."

...

The next day, after having a lovely breakfast that Santana prepared, the three head out to sightsee around Los Angeles. Santana pulls her Mercedes CLS around and hops out to open the doors for the Fabray women.

"Santana I'm sure you have a myriad of things you need to get done. Quinn and I can manage on our own today," Judy says.

"I have cleared my schedule just for the two of you. There is nothing I'd rather do than show you the sights of my beautiful city."

"Mom I can't believe with all the traveling you and dad have done that you've never been to Los Angeles," Quinn comments.

"Your father has been numerous times, but the thought of the earthquakes always deterred me. I've never been big on having an earth moving experience."

"Wanky," Santana says.

Quinn leans up from her spot in the backseat to give Santana a swift whack to the arm. Her eyes catch Quinn's in the rear view mirror telling Santana to behave.

"What was that dear?" Judy asks.

"Nothing. Where would you like to go first?" Santana asks.

"I would love to visit one of the boutiques you frequent. I hear that the shopping is almost as good as in New York," Judy says.

"The first thing you want to do is shop? You are certainly a woman after my own heart. Quinn your mom is quickly replacing you as my favorite Fabray," Santana teases.

The women enjoy some retail therapy, visit some of the tourist traps and stop to have lunch at one of Santana's favorite places. Quinn watches the effortless way that her mother and Santana get along. Currently Santana has Judy's arm hooked around her own, telling to her about the first time her mother had been to L.A. They laugh and exchange carefree conversation as if they've know each other for years. Quinn can feel something bubbling deep inside her at the sight of the two of them together. Quinn also sees Judy's pace has slowed and knows that her mother is in need of a rest.

"Ladies all this walking has me worn out. Do you mind if we head back now?" Quinn asks.

Neither Santana nor Judy object to the idea. They all pile back into Santana's car and make the journey back to Malibu.

...

Santana is humming to herself, ecstatic at what a success the day had been. She was admittedly nervous about meeting Quinn's mom. She was desperate to make a good impression on the woman. She knew her scandalous reputation proceeded her and was unsure how she would be receipted. Santana was appreciative that Judy seemed to have a carefree disposition about her and hadn't passed any judgements prior to then meeting.

Santana is heading out for a evening soak in the hot tub, but decides to stop and tell Judy good night first. She taps at the door and enters after Judy beckons her to do so. Judy is in the middle of removing her wig when Santana enters.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," Santana says.

"It's quite alright. Come keep an old lady company while I relax."

Santana steps into the room and takes a seat in the chair by the window.

"I don't know how much Quinn has told you about my condition," Judy starts.

Santana just shakes her head, not knowing that the elder Fabray was sick at all.

"I have stage three breast cancer. I had originally been given only a short time to live. My cancer was rather aggressive, but an equally aggressive treatment program has bettered my prognosis."

The lightbulb went on for Santana at the revelation of this news. The need for a lot of breaks, her small appetite, even the slow way she moved all started to make sense. Her heart ached for the two women. Judy, for being faced with something so grim and Quinn, for being faced with the fact that her mom won't live forever.

"I'm on the mend, but being faced with imminent death has a way of putting things in prospective. You learn to appreciate the things you might have taken for granted."

Santana nods her agreement, fully understanding what Judy means.

"My Quinnie was one of those things. I spent too long not protecting her and vowed I'd never do that again. So excuse me if I'm being frank, but what are your intentions with my daughter?"

"I'm, I," Santana sputters, taken aback by Judy's forwardness.

"You opened up your home to not only her, but myself. You extend yourself for her far more than I've ever witnessed anyone do before. All I want to know is what the catch is."

"There is no catch. I," Santana pauses.

She swallows hard, not sure if she should continue. Judy has a soft smile on her face, giving Santana all the encouragement she needs.

"I love her," Santana admits.

Judy beams at Santana's transparency.

"That's what I thought. Have you told Quinn?"

"No," Santana answers.

"Why not?"

"Not because I haven't wanted to. I'm in a constant struggle with myself not to blurt the words out to her. I'm afraid that if I confess my feelings, it'll scare her off," Santana explains.

"Be patient with her Santana. Quinn hasn't had the best track record when it comes to love, especially in the romantic sense."

Santana thinks back to her brief encounters with David and can totally understand what Judy is hinting at.

"She likes to internalize a lot of things. She's not good at revealing her true self, afraid that a moment of weakness will be used against her in the future."

"So what do I do?" Santana asks.

"Be persistent and consistent. When it becomes evident to her that you're true in your intentions, and that you're not going to leave her high and dry if she reciprocates, she'll come around. My daughter has been positively radiant lately and I would like to contribute that mostly to you. I'm counting on you to continue to keep her spirits high."

"I won't let you down Mrs. Fabray."

Judy smiles at the surety and determination in Santana's voice.

"My daughter was so right about you," she says.

She places her hand on Santana's further expressing her thankfullness.

"Now, tell me about this sex tape you made."

...

Later that evening, Santana is in bed channel surfing, when she hears a little tap at her door.

"Come in," she says.

Quinn walks in and gives Santana a small smile. Quinn's hair is up and she's wearing a long satin robe. Her face is fresh and free of makeup. Santana's heart stutters a little at the sight.

"Hey what's up?" Santana asks.

Quinn walks in slowly and turns the t.v. off.

"I was just coming to tuck you in," Quinn says.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I just want to check and make sure there aren't any monsters in your closet."

Quinn makes an exaggerated show of flinging Santana's closet door open.

"Or under the bed."

Quinn kneels down and checks under the bed. Santana chuckles at her antics.

"And most importantly, that there aren't any in the bed with you."

Quinn removes her robe to revel a short, lace negligee. Santana bits her lip as her eyes roam over Quinn. Quinn pulls back the covers and straddles Santana.

"Quinn?"

"Shh. Just go with me honey, okay?" Quinn asks.

She caress the side of Santana's face before kissing her softly.

"Thank you," Quinn whispers.

"For what baby?"

"For being so patient and kind with my mother," she explains.

"Quinn."

She didn't do what she did to receive any form of praise. She sincerely enjoyed Judy's company. Santana tries to voice her protest, but Quinn silences her with another kiss.

"Thank you," Quinn says again.

She brushes her lips against Santana's ear.

"For being patient and understanding with me," she whispers.

Quinn's lips travel from her lobe, to her jaw, back to Santana's mouth.

"Thank you."

Quinn gives Santana a deep passionate kiss. Her hands are buried in Santana's hair. Santana is clutching the sheets tightly, afraid to return Quinn's touch. She doesn't know if this is a test, but if it is, she'll be damned if she's going to fail.

"San touch me baby," Quinn whispers.

She guides Santana's hand up her thigh. Santana moans as her fingers glide across the soft skin.

"Quinn please tell me this isn't you exacting your revenge," Santana pleads.

Quinn smirks in between kisses.

"Please don't get me worked up and then leave me hanging."

"I'm not playing with you. No games. No false pretenses. Just you and I connecting," Quinn says.

She removes Santana's pajamas before discarding her own. She then allows her body to communicate with Santana's. They connect in a way that Quinn has never been able to with another person. In between Santana's soft sighs of pleasure, are Quinn's continued whispered words of gratitude. Quinn doesn't stop her show of appreciation until Santana collapses, unable to take anymore. Quinn finds herself, once again, lulled into a calm state at the feel of Santana laying on chest sound asleep. As relaxed as she is, Quinn can't seem to find the respite that slumber brings. She's been in the same position for the past hour, watching the rhythmic way Santana's back moves as she inhales and exhales. She exhales deeply as well, while her fingers play up and down her spine. Her mind keeps running over the last few weeks. Santana moves around a little, trying to find a more comfortable position. Quinn kisses the top of her head after she settles.

"Te amo," Santana mumbles in her sleep.

Quinn freezes, her heart racing from Santana's subconscious confession. She clasps her hand over mouth to trap the sob that's threatening to escape. She wants so very much to reciprocate the words that the sleeping woman seems to give so freely. In that moment Quinn has a decision to make. Will she take her mother's advice or will she continue to let her past dictate her future?


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: First, I want to thank everyone who read and/or comment on the last chapter. There won't be a lot of setup for this one. It's pretty self explanatory. I will say that I've had envisioned the last part of this chapter in my mind's eye since about chapter two. I'm excited and anxious to share it. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

**...**

It's a gorgeous morning in Southern California. The sun is shining. Birds are chirping. Santana is standing, left leg firmly planted in the ground. Her right leg is bent at a forty-five degree angle, her foot against the opposite leg. Her arms are stretched above her head, hands meeting in the center. Her eyes are unblinking as they focus on a point far off in the distance. She can feel the rays of the sun beaming on her face. As she concentrates on her breaths, an unmistakable sense of peace washes over her. She usually doesn't reach her place of inner calm until she is well into her routine, but lately this sense of serenity has been a constant state.

She and Quinn had just returned from taking Judy to the airport. She has mixed emotions about her departure. Happy that Judy had such a good time, but a little sad that she had to leave so soon. After their heart to heart, the two had formed an inexplicable bond. She could also feel that Quinn was a lot more unreserved in regards to her. Santana was almost certain Judy had something to do with that. She didn't know what type of mojo the elder Fabray had worked on them, but she knew she would be eternally appreciative for it.

Quinn is standing in the sunroom, watching the graceful way Santana is moving. She doesn't want to disrupt the groove Santana is in, but at the same time, she has an urge to be near her. Quinn quietly steps outside, basking in the warmth of the early day.

"San," she calls out.

Santana turns her head but doesn't break her position.

"Hi honey, what's up?"

The sun doesn't come close to the brightness of the smile Santana gifts her with. Quinn's stomach does a little roll and she can't help but smile back. She stands glued in place, suddenly at a lost as to why she initially came outside.

"I, umm, I don't know," Quinn laughs bashfully.

Santana drops her pose and approaches Quinn.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you. I didn't mean to break your concentration. I don't even know why I came out here. I just was watching you and then my feet started moving," Quinn rambles on.

Santana moves even closer, diminishing the gap between them. She strokes Quinn's cheek and kisses her sweetly.

"Don't ever apologize for wanting to be around me. You're more than welcome to join me if you'd like," she says.

"Im ashamed to admit that I've never done yoga before," Quinn confesses.

"It's okay. We'll do some beginners poses. Go get changed. I'll be waiting."

Santana spends the next hour going through the basics of yoga. She helps Quinn with her technique and coaches her to breathe evenly. Quinn is admittedly refreshed after the whole experience.

"I never in a million years wwould have taken you as the yoga type," Quinn says.

"Why is that?"

"Because I've always pictured someone who regularly practices yoga to be full of peace and tranquility," Quinn explains.

"And one might say that I can be a bit of a firecracker," Santana interjects.

Quinn snorts, recalling on more than one occasion where Santana was less than friendly with the paparazzi.

"It's because of the yoga that I'm as calm as I am eighty percent of the time. I have so much going on at any particular moment, but for an hour a day, I'm able to center myself and contemplate on the things that are truly important. The things that make life worthwhile instead of all the superficial bullshit. It's the only thing that keeps me from slapping a bitch on the regular."

"I can see that," Quinn laughs.

She follows Santana into the kitchen, each grabbing a bottle of water.

"I also never took you to be the domestic type. To say that I'm surprised that you maintain your house yourself would be an understatement," Quinn says.

"That's because my home is my refuge. I have people fawning and falling all over me on a regular basis. The last thing I need is another person kissing my ass. When I come here, I like to be a regular person. Besides, looking after myself keeps me humble. I don't ever want to get to the place where I think I'm too good."

"You truly are an enigma. For all your brash and bravado, you are one of the most down to earth people I know. You aren't at all caught up in the trappings that success can bring," Quinn observes.

"The way I carry on in public, is just that, for the public. It's not who I really am."

"I know babe. Every day that I spend with you it's becoming more and more obvious to me who you really are," Quinn says.

Santana inwardly does a little happy dance at Quinn calling her '_babe_'. She's pretty sure the blonde doesn't even know she said it. She had been doing that a lot lately. Santana tries not to read too much into it, but it is proving to be a harder task than she thought. Every day, she can feel Quinn gravitating closer to her. Every endearment, every absentminded touch, every thoughtful act Quinn does just because, has her falling a little deeper. Patience has never been Santana's strong suit. She is accustomed to getting what she wants when she wants it. As anxious as she is for Quinn to truly be hers, she keeps her composure despite herself. Judy's advice has been Santana's guiding force. Slow and steady was going to win this race.

...

As had become their routine, Quinn made breakfast since she was up first. It had been a few days since her mother had left, but the good energy she had brought along with her had remained. Ever since talking to her mother, she was very aware that something was changing for her emotional. For the first time in her life, she decided to roll with it instead of running from it. Quinn was a bit woeful after Judy left. She and her mother were finally connecting on a level she had wished for all of her adolescence and a good portion of her adult life. She didn't want the two thousand plus miles between them to diminish it. Not only that, but Quinn is fearful that the magic that was happening between her and Santana in her mother's presence was going to leave with her. Quinn is determined not to let either of those things come to fruition. She hops out of bed with an extra bounce in her stride, eager to make Santana something special.

She whips up a delicious breakfast and sets the table. Quinn checks her watch expecting Santana to be just about done with her morning yoga session. After about fifteen minutes of waiting with no Santana, Quinn goes in search of her.

After checking the yard, the gym and just about every other room in the house with no sign of Santana, Quinn heads to the only place left that she could be. The door to her bedroom is closed. Quinn knocks a few times and waits. When she doesn't hear anything coming from the other side, she lets herself in.

"Santana if this is another one of your tricks to get me into bed, it isn't going to work," she says as she enters.

She stops as she see the curtains are still drawn and the room is pitch black. The only reason she knows Santana is in there is because she can hear her breathing. Quinn knows Santana is consistently an early riser and is puzzled as to why she's still in bed.

"Santana," Quinn whispers out.

Santana makes a few grumbling noise, but doesn't give any real sign that she's awake. Quinn feels around in the dark making it to the lamp in the corner. She turns the switch and the room is immediately illuminated. Santana scrunches up her face as the light hits it.

"Quinn?" Santana asks as she starts to come to.

"Yeah it's me."

"What time is it?" Santana rasps.

"Almost ten."

"Dammit. I have to call Noah and tell him push my meetings back," she grumbles.

Santana attempts to get out of bed and almost falls. Quinn rushes to her side to help steady her. She runs the back of her hand across Santana's forehead. It feels like it's on fire.

"San lay back down," Quinn directs.

"I can't. I have too much to do today."

"Sweetie you are burning up. I think you have a cold," Quinn says.

"I don't have time to be sick."

"Well you better make time. You're no good to anyone if you're not firing on all cylinders. I need you well and in tip top shape," she says firmly.

That seems to have the desired affect. Santana reluctantly lays back under the covers. Quinn goes to the bathroom, finding the thermometer in the medicine cabinet.

"Open," Quinn instructs as she sits back down on the bed.

Santana complies and lifts her tongue. Quinn waits for the device to beep before she checks the read out.

"San your temp is one hundred and one. You need to see a doctor sweetie," Quinn coos.

"Grab my phone. My physician's number is in my contacts."

Quinn does as she's asked. She calls Santana's doctor and arranges for her to come out to the house as soon as she can.

After a bit of poking and prodding, it's concluded that Santana has a virus. The doctor tells her there isn't much she can do but to drink a lot of fluids and get plenty of rest and that the bug will be out of her system in a few days.

"There's only one reason I like to be stuck in bed and this is not it," Santana gripes.

"Is that all you can think about?"

"Quinn do you have any idea how hot you are? Of course that's all I can think about," Santana answers.

"Well I promise to wait on you hand foot while you're confined to the bedroom."

"You don't have to do that," Santana says.

"But I want to Sweet Pea."

Sweet Pea? That was a new one. Santana thinks she likes it the best so far.

"No te mereces," Santana murmurs.

"Have I ever told you how incredibly sexy I think that is?" Quinn asks.

"When I speak Spanish?"

"Mm hmm. You don't do it often, but when you do, it hits me in all the right places," Quinn explains.

"Now who's mind is in the gutter?" Santana teases.

"Do you have any idea how hot you are? Of course that's all I can think about," Quinn parrots.

Santana sticks out her tongue. They both laugh until Santana's mirth turns into a coughing attack.

"San I'm going to make you some soup," Quinn announces.

She kisses Santana's brow before heading to the kitchen. Quinn makes her chicken noodle soup from scratch and freshly squeezed orange juice. She places Santana's meal, along with some water and a couple pills to manage her fever, on a tray. She carries it all back to the master bedroom.

"Prepare to be amazed by another one of my culinary delights," Quinn boasts.

She turns to find Santana, fast asleep. Quinn places the tray down and climbs in next to her sleeping beauty. Santana immediately wraps her limbs around Quinn, settling into a deeper slumber.

Quinn dozes off herself, waking to the sound of Santana having a fit of coughs.

"San let me make you some tea. It'll soothe your throat," Quinn offers.

"Nuh uhn."

"Honey you have to let me get up," Quinn says.

"No I don't," Santana pouts.

"The tea will make you feel better, I promise," she coaxes.

"But I don't need the tea if you stay put. Having you underneath me always seems to brighten my mood."

Quinn brushes back Santana's hair to see that as sickly as she looks, there's still a naughty twinkle to her eyes.

"What am I going to do with you," Quinn sighs.

"Whatever you want to do baby."

"You are incorrigible," Quinn chuckles.

"And your bedside manner is impeccable. Promise me we can play doctor when I get better."

Quinn swallows at all the lude scenarios running through her mind at Santana's suggestion. She is flabbergasted at Santana's ability to always know what to say to get her going. Although Santana is in no condition to act out anyone of them, that doesn't stop Quinn's libido from revving up. A suitable distraction is needed immediately.

"How about we play one of your many board games instead. Don't think I didn't notice the stash you have in the family room," Quinn proposes.

"You're going to willing subject yourself to a Lopez ass whooping? Oh my silly, naive Quinn," Santana taunts.

"Bring it it on," Quinn says confidently.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

...

"Q-u-e-t-z-a-l-s. That's a 50 point bingo, triple word score, a double letter score and I win. Again," Santana boasts.

"No you don't. That's not even a word," Quinn argues.

"Yes is it Q Bear. It's a bird. Also the a form of Guatemalan currency. You can look it up if you need to."

"There's absolutely no reason you should know that," Quinn says.

"Don't apply logic to Lopez. Trying to do so will only give you a headache."

"How is it that you have handed me my ass five games in a row. I went to Yale!" Quinn exclaims.

"And its evident that your thousand dollar Yale words are no match for my superior Stanford education."

"I forgot that you did go to Stanford," Quinn says.

"And that I graduated in the top ten percent of my class," Santana adds.

"Yes and that you graduated in the top ten percent," Quinn repeats.

Santana is sporting a self satisfying smirk, rubbing Quinn's defeat in her face.

"There's something that has always puzzled me about you," Quinn remarks.

"What's that?"

"You are clearly of above average intelligence. Why the dog and pony show that you put on?" Quinn inquires.

"Are you talking about Snixx?"

"Yes. If that isn't who you are, why do it?" she questions.

Santana exhales before giving Quinn an abbreviate version of her career track after she was discovered.

"What I don't understand is if being wildly successful was what you had to achieve to be free creatively, why are you still doing the same old song and dance? I mean, you're practically Mercedes Jones famous?"

Santana picks up on the slightly ribbing tone Quinn uses when saying the last part of her sentence. She flips her the bird and Quinn smiles sweetly.

"More like practically Beyonce famous, but that's a discussion for a later date and time. I've been demanding that they honor the promises they made to me, but I'm being met with a lot of resistance. I want to be true to myself and they want their golden goose to keep laying multi million dollar eggs."

"There isn't any middle ground?" Quinn asks.

"Apparently not. That's what's taking so long for my album to come out. I have to keep swapping out song until I have a 'suitable' enough body of work put together."

Santana's disdain with being forced to do something against her will was obvious in her tone. Quinn wished there was something she could do to help. Then she got an idea.

"Why don't you just start your own company?" Quinn suggest.

"What?"

"I mean you would be able to do your music, your way. You'd be the boss, so you'd have the final say in what you put out," Quinn elaborates.

"That's easier said than done."

"What's so hard about it?" Quinn asks.

"First I'd have to buy myself out of my current contract. Then I'd have to find investors so I could have some financial backing. Starting and maintaining a label is expensive and I don't have the capital to do it alone. I'd have to set up a deal with a distributor so my product can get to the consumer. Then there's getting my imprint incorporated. Not to mention the money I would have to come up with to buy back the songs that I don't own the rights to. And that's just the begin of the slew of other things that I don't have the time, nor the resources to do right now."

"I haven't know you that long, but I have never known you to shy away from a challenge. You're the kind of person to make her dreams come true by any means necessary. Sure it'll be a lot of work, but won't the end result be worth it. Having the liberty to be your authentic self seems like sufficient enough motivation to me," Quinn states.

"I don't know."

"Not only that, but you're wickedly talented. When I discovered that you wrote music for Mercedes, I went back and did some research. Half of my favorite songs of hers were written by you. You already have mass appeal Sweet Pea. You just have to have faith that you can make it happen," Quinn assures.

"You did it again."

"I did what?" Quinn asks, puzzled.

"Called me Sweet Pea."

"Oh that. I can stop if you don't like it," Quinn backpedals quickly.

"No I very much like it."

"Good because I very much like calling you it," Quinn says shyly.

"Pushing me to follow my dreams. Calling me cute names and being all flirty. Gosh if I wasn't a swirling cess pool of disease right now I'd kiss you."

"Such a romantic. I don't know how it is that I'm able to resist you," Quinn cracks.

"I can't fathom it either."

They spend the remainder of the day in bed enjoying the vast board game collection Santana has. Quinn decides it's finally time to give it a rest when she sees the younger woman practically asleep while they are playing Connect Four. As stealthily as possible, she collects the pieces the game to put away before turning out the lights. Quinn is almost out of the door when a voice barely above a whisper calls for her.

"Don't leave," Santana mumbles.

"You're tired honey. I'm going to let you get some rest."

"Come lay with me. I always rest better when I'm next to you," Santana discloses.

Quinn's heart does a little stutter step at Santana's admission. She climbs back on the bed and allows Santana settle on her chest, where she stays for the remainder of the evening.

...

The next morning Quinn leaves a sleeping Santana in bed while she goes about get them some nourishment. When she returns to the room, food in hand, Santana is very much awake with a disgusted look on her face.

"What's wrong San?" Quinn asks.

"I haven't bathed in more than twenty four hours and I feel gross. I'm afraid to look in the mirror. I probably look like Amy Winehouse after a bender. God rest her soul."

Santana make sure to cross herself after her last statement. Quinn wince, because Santana is very correct in her assumption.

"You don't look that bad," she lies.

"Although I appreciate your attempt at being polite, dishonesty isn't necessary."

"I can run you a bath," Quinn volunteers.

"I'd rather shower. I want to wash my hair."

Santana goes to stand but her legs are a little wobbly.

"Sweet Pea are you sure you're okay to shower? You're still not too steady on your feet," Quinn says.

"Can you help me please?"

"Of course," Quinn replies.

She turns on the faucet and lets the water get just right as they undress. Quinn is so focused on caring for the ill woman in front of her, that she doesn't realize what she's agreed to do until it's too late. She swallows hard as she processes that she and Santana are naked. Together. In the shower. Santana looks so weak, barely keeping herself upright. She just wants to get clean, while Quinn is imagining all the sordid things they could be doing right now.

Quinn closes her eyes tightly for a moment in an effort to keep her longing at bay. She is runs the loofa over Santana, trying very hard to be clinical and keep the bath about cleanliness only. It would be a lot simpler if her body wasn't reacting to Santana's body reacting to hers. Quinn's not sure if it's a visceral reaction or not, but Santana's breathing has deepened and her nipples are standing at attention. She's watching as Quinn openly gawks at her. Quinn witnesses a trail of suds as they slink between Santana's breast. Never in Quinn's life had she ever coveted an inanimate object, but she had a stronger inclination to be the soap running down Santana's body.

"Turn around baby, let me wash your hair," Quinn directs.

She hopes the change in position will help to assuage her want. It seems to have the opposite effect. If anything the back view of Santana is more dangerous than the front. Quinn massages Santana's scalp, cause some unseemly noises to come from her. Quinn tries to find something to do with her eyes. They end up firmly glued to Santana's ass. It's glistening as the water cascades over it. It looks like a delicious piece of fruit and Quinn very much wants to take a bite. She hurries the rest of the process along, wanting to get Santana in some clothes as soon as possible.

Quinn quickly helps Santana dry off and dress. She's sitting at the vanity as Quinn combs out her hair.

"You totally want to do me don't you?" Santana says.

She catches Quinn's reflection in the mirror. She doesn't think she's ever seen her turn that shade of red before.

"It's okay baby. I know I really am sick, cause if I was myself, I would have had you all over ever surface of that bathroom," Santana says casually.

Quinn finishes putting Santana's hair up before kissing the crown of her head. Santana turns around and smiles.

"I feel so very well taken care of. I never would have taken you for the nurturing type," Santana comments.

"I like looking after you."

"You're going to make such a good mom some day Q Bear," Santana says.

She notices the way Quinn's face immediately pales.

"What's wrong baby?" she asks.

"Nothing," Quinn says quickly.

Santana knows it isn't true, but she also knows Quinn isn't going to supply anything more until she's ready. She stands and offers her hand for Quinn to take.

"Come cuddle with me. Let's see if we can find something interesting on these nine hundred plus channels I have."

They lay down in the middle of the bed, Santana snuggling on to Quinn's chest. Quinn is flipping through the channels, fingers tangled in Santana's mane. She's scratching lightly, relaxing Santana even further. She discovered the other day that the action practically makes Santana purr like a cat. Santana's breathing has slowed and Quinn can tell that she's almost to the point of unconsciousness.

_Now this is a story all about how_

_My life got flipped turned upside down_

_And I'd like to take a minute_

_Just sit right there_

_I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air_

"Don't change the channel," Santana mumbles.

She opens an eye as she starts to sing along.

_In west Philadelphia born and raised_

_On the playground was where I spent most of my days_

_Chillin out maxin relaxin all cool_

_And shootin some b-ball outside of the school_

_When a couple of guys who were up to no good_

_Started making trouble in my neighborhood_

_I got in one little fight and my mom got scared_

"She said you're moving with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air," Quinn chimes in.

Santana pops all the way up, bopping to the music. They finish the theme song together, complete with Quinn doing the Cabbage Patch.

"Q bear I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you have a lot more flavor than I initially assumed," Santana admits.

"I'll take that as a compliment and that's a side effect of living in the Jones household for six plus months."

Santana slides back to rest against the headboard.

"Do I finally get to hear the story of how you came to know Mercedes?" she asks.

"Yes. I don't know really where to start."

"The beginning is always a good spot," she suggests.

"Well I was born Lucy Quinn Fabray," Quinn commences.

She goes on to describe her adolescence. She explains to Santana how she wasn't the most popular girl. She was a tad on the heavy side and had glasses. She was shy and quiet and very much the introvert. She would often turn to books for companionship, preferring the camaraderie of fictional people versus actual ones. She didn't feel like anything was wrong with herself until she got to high school.

"You know the private school scene as well as I do. Teenage girls can be so mean. Rich, entitled ones take cruel to a whole new level. The Regina Georges aren't just in the movies. I can't count how many times I came home in tears. I was finally able to convince my mom to convince my dad to let me go to public school," Quinn says.

"And that's where you met Mercedes?"

"Yup. We were both part of the Glee Club. It was the one place where I felt I belonged and I could truly be me. Her and I were an unlikely pair but we clicked immediately," she explains.

"Ok so how did you end up living with the Joneses?"

Quinn pauses, trying to figure out how to explain her temporary banishment.

"My parents and I, mostly me and my father, had a difference in opinion about a few things. We couldn't find an amiable solution, so it was decided that it was best if I stayed some where else for the time being," she offers.

"So you had a little bit of teenaged angst. We all go through that. I hardly think it's a suitable reason to put your young daughter out."

Quinn averts her eyes and tries to think fast. She doesn't know how to get Santana to understand the whys behind her exile without divulging the entire story. Santana knows there's more to the tale, but can't figure out what could be so horrible that Quinn wouldn't want to share.

"So you only stayed with Mercedes a few months. What happened to cause you to go back home?" Santana probes.

"I, I had an accident."

"An accident?" she asks.

"Yeah, a car accident. I had been living with the Jones for a while. At this point, my father had forbid my brother and mother from speaking to me. My mom had insisted on meeting me. She missed me and wanted a chance to explain herself. I was on the way to her when it happened. A semi truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. I didn't see him coming and he ran right into my car."

"Oh my gosh baby," Santana gasps.

"I was touch and go for a while. I was in a coma for two weeks. In was in the hospital for a month and a half total. Then it was months of physical therapy. My spine was damaged from the pieces of the car they had to remove from it."

"Your scars," Santana says.

"Yes. The doctors said that I was lucky. Had the debris been a centimeter to the right, I would have been paralyzed forever. I was in a wheel chair for a few months. I had to learn how to walk all over again. After all of that, my mom insisted I move back home and took me out of public school."

"So where does the name change play into all of this?" Santana wonders.

"I felt like a part of me died in that accident. I spent many days in that hospital bed wishing I had. After I recovered, it was like I was reborn. I promised myself I would take advantage of the second chance and not make the same mistakes Lucy had. I had already lost a great deal of weight. So I ditched the glasses and got contacts. Changed how I dressed. Dyed my hair."

"I knew that wasn't your natural color," Santana comments.

Quinn cocks her head to the side, curious for Santana to elaborate.

"Carpet doesn't match the drapes baby," she says ruefully.

Quinn gives Santana's shoulder a shove, but laughs anyway, thankful for a break from the somberness of the conversation.

"I went back to my old school with a new name and a new personality to go along with it. The girls who so unmercifully crushed my spirits, didn't even recognize me. They welcomed me into their circle with open arms. It proved to me how shall and vain people really are. It also taught me not to trust."

"And Mercedes?" Santana asks.

"I kept in touch with her. She and her family were so good to me. I could never turn my back on them. We've been close ever since."

"Mercedes is truly one of a kind," Santana agrees.

"You know I've been doing a lot of self introspection lately. I've been through a shit load of misery, but I can't help but feel like all of those things were leading me to where my life is now. I mean it was the whole need to be able to escape from my reality that pushed me to want to act in the first place."

Santana concurs with Quinn's analysis, all too familiar with using her music as an outlet to cope.

"It's like every mistake and misstep has ultimately lead me to the place I'm supposed to be and the people I'm supposed to be with," Quinn muses.

She didn't actually speak the words '_with you_', but Santana felt what she was implying all the same. She pulls Quinn into a hug, hoping the show of affection can express her gratitude for Quinn being so forthright.

...

Santana wakes up the next morning feeling very much like herself. Although Quinn is grateful that she is well, she is a little disappointed that her unencumbered access to Santana has come to an end. She was getting used to all the up close and personal time they were spending together.

Santana quickly showers and dresses, eager to get some fresh air and some work done. She's more than disappointed at the view of the steady downpour outside of the window. In no mood to brave the rain, Santana opts to workout for a little while, allowing the storm some time to pass.

The rain doesn't stop all day, forcing both women to occupy themselves indoors. After her workout, Santana goes in her office to sort through some emails and the myriad of other things that went unattended while she was bedridden. After spending a good three hours working, she decides to give it a rest. She stretches, hoping to help the blood circulate. She gets up and wanders around the house, seeking Quinn out. She hadn't seen her since earlier in the day and had grown accustomed to their one on one time. She walks into the sunroom, disappointed when Quinn isn't there. That's almost always where she is, often lost in quiet reflection. When Santana doesn't find her in her other hangouts, she knows exactly where to look next. She opens the door to her study, spying Quinn sitting on the ledge of the bay window. The room is virtually dark, the only light coming from the fireplace. Santana is always astonished at how California weather allowed you to wear shorts and flip flops all day, yet it was still chilly enough in the evening to light a fire.

Quinn has a mug in her hand which she isn't drinking from. She is instead watching the rain fall, a pensive look on her face. Santana watches her, not wanting to break her concentration. Her gaze takes in all the sights before her and Santana is, once again, entranced by Quinn's beauty. She contemplates to herself how quickly and how completely the woman in front of her has captivated her. Like a moth to a flame, Santana is drawn to be closer to Quinn. She steps into the room and stops at the baby grand piano. She runs her hands over a few of the keys which causes Quinn to look up. The dark cloud that was covering her countenance brightens at the sight of Santana.

"Hi,"

"Hi," Quinn whispers back.

"Hope I'm not interrupting."

"Never," Quinn says.

"You looked deep in thought."

"I was," Quinn concedes.

"About?"

"Stuff," Quinn answers.

"Ever the evasive one, you are."

"It's not intentional. At least not with you it isn't," she replies.

Quinn watches as Santana runs her hands along the surface of the piano.

"Do you play?" Quinn asks.

"Not as well as I should. I can play some basic chords. It's enough to help me when I'm writing."

Santana taps a few more keys. Quinn turns back to the view, which is matching her emotions at the present moment. Santana can feel her dismay and is desperate to brighten her mood.

"You know one of my favorite things to do on a rainy day is to lay in front of the fire and listen to music," Santana says.

She goes to the wall and pulls out a record. She places it on the player. She arranges some pillows and a blanket in front of the fireplace. Santana steps closer as the soft tones fill the air and pulls Quinn down to lay next to her.

They lounge on the floor for a long time together, listening to all the greats. Bessie, Billie, Ella, Nina. The rain a beautiful accompaniment to the sounds coming forth. They lay with their fingers intertwined, discussing their favorite parts of a song or the merits of the use of one instrument over the other. Their voices are nothing more than a whisper, afraid that anything louder might shatter the enchantment of the moment. Neither one has the desire to move, only doing so when it's time to flip the record over or change to a new one.

As the white noise of the current album they're listening to fills the room, Santana hops up, knowing exactly what she wants to play next. She walks along the wall, fingers touching everything as she goes. A smile graces her features when she finds what she's looking for. She places the record on the player and drops the needle. Quinn's smile matches her own when the first tones of '_Stormy Weather_' ring out.

"Very appropriate," Quinn says.

"I thought so," Santana smiles.

She resumes her position on the floor, next to Quinn.

"I was wondering when we were going to get to Etta," Quinn comments.

"Saving the best for last," Santana replies.

They continue their discussion. They debate which one of Etta's songs is her greatest and who's cover had done her the most justice. Quinn even suggests that Santana do a cover herself. Santana politely declines, explain how you have to have a certain 'je ne sais quoi' to properly pull off one of the legend's numbers.

They converse about a number of other things as the records are changed. Quinn smiles at how, while cocooned in this room, she feels so safe to be completely open with Santana. The conversation is constant and riveting and Quinn tries to remember the last person she was able to carry on with in such a manner. The searching of her memory banks is brought to a halt as the notes of the next song travel across the room.

_Someday he'll come along_

_The man I love_

_And he'll be big and strong_

_The man I love_

_And when he comes my way_

_I'll do my best to make him stay_

Quinn turns her head, eyes running over the features of Santana's face. There's a serene look to her, lips turned up in a slight grin. Her fingers on her free hand are tapping against Quinn's thigh to the beat. Quinn is compelled to touch her. She runs a finger over Santana's brow, then down her nose, then across her lips. Santana kisses it and Quinn closes her eyes.

_He'll look at me and smile_

_I'll understand_

_And in a little while_

_He'll take my hand_

_And though it seems absurd_

_I know we both won't say a word_

The light from the fireplace is flickering off of Santana's skin. She looks like she's glowing. Quinn can feel the invisible tug on her heart strings. She acts on instinct, unable to fight its magnetism.

"Dance with me Santana."

Quinn stands and pulls the smaller woman with her. She smiles when Santana places her hands around Quinn's neck, signaling that she is leading this dance.

_Maybe I shall meet him Sunday_

_Maybe Monday, maybe not_

_Still I'm sure to meet him one day_

_Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day_

They sway together, completely enveloped in each other. No words are spoken, yet so many things are being said. Quinn marvels at how dancing always seems to convey the thoughts and sentiments they can never seem to communicate with each other.

_He'll build a little home_

_That's meant for two_

_From which I'll never roam_

_Who would, would you_

_And so all else above_

_I'm waiting for the man I love_

As the music continues to play, Quinn pulls back to look in to Santana's eyes. She swallows hard as her heart beats out of her chest. Santana knows her truth. She can see it all over the younger woman's face. She sings along, hoping to reaffirm the conviction of that truth.

_Maybe I shall meet her Sunday_

_Maybe Monday, maybe not_

_Still I'm sure to meet her one day_

_Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day_

Santana is a little taken aback at Quinn's serenade. She notices the pronoun change and is desperately trying to decipher the meaning behind it. She can hear the emotion in Quinn's voice as much as she can see it on her face.

_She'll build a little home_

_Just meant for two_

_From which I'll never roam_

_Who would, why would you_

_And so all else above_

_I'm waiting for the woman I love_

The record ends, but neither one wants to disturb the momentous nature of the atmosphere. Quinn takes Santana by the hand and leads her to Santana's bedroom. She leaves her by the bed and goes to light the fireplace. She returns to Santana's side, slowly undressing her. Quinn then removes her own clothing. Santana continues to let Quinn lead, knowing that they have reached a watershed moment in their relationship. She doesn't move a muscle, not wanting to frighten the woman in front of her. Quinn grazes her fingers over every inch of Santana that she can reach. She's seen her this way numerous times before, but it feels like Quinn is just seeing her for the first time. She wonders how the woman before her unceremoniously broke down every barrier she so masterfully placed around her heart.

"Quinn?" Santana whispers.

"I'm scared beyond belief. This was completely unexpected and I don't know what to do with it. There is so much at stake for the both of us and I want to be certain. Just continue be patient with me. Please," Quinn begs.

"I'd wait a thousand years for you if that's how long it takes. Whatever you need, I'll do it Quinn. I love,"

Quinn places a finger on Santana's lips, effectively stopping her. She's not yet ready to hear the words from a conscious Santana that seem to tumble forth so uninhibited whenever they share a bed.

"Don't. Not yet. I'm not ready to say the words back," Quinn says in a hushed tone.

"What do you need from me baby?" Santana asks.

"I need you to just hold me," Quinn replies.

Santana drawers back the bedsheets, pulling Quinn along with her. She lays down first, positioning Quinn flush against her chest. Santana caresses Quinn's shoulders, then down her back. She repeats the pattern, hoping that her touch will both relax and reaffirm the unsure woman in her arms. The soothing sound of the rain lulls Santana into a peaceful sleep. Quinn lays awake, listening to the steady beating of Santana's heart against her ear. She is amazed at how easily Santana always seems to find rest when they are wrapped around one another.

The storm has slowed down to a trickle, providing a nice rhythm against the roof and windows. Quinn plays with the skin on Santana's stomach as she ponders all of the circumstances that have lead her to this point. She so desperately wants to just lose herself in Santana, but can't seem to cross over that last hurdle in her way. Santana has given her no reason to doubt her. Why was she so petrified? Quinn bites her lip and shakes her head, disappointed in her inability to be more inhibited. As if she is subconsciously aware that Quinn needs some encouragement, Santana tightens her arm around Quinn, drawing her in closer. Quinn squeezes her eyes tight, but can't stop the single tear that escapes. Why would anyone ever want to keep themselves from the beautiful soul lying underneath her. She places a kiss over Santana's heart, knowing that if she wants it, it is hers. All she has to do is say the word.

"I love you too, Santana," she utters.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:Ummm... Is anyone still reading this? No. Okay, well I'm going to post it anyway for the five people who might still be possibly interested. I deeply apologize for the prolonged absence. Tumblr is partially to blame (inserting my shameless plug here: Ladybug0327 ). I swear you can lose yourself on there for months at a time. Anywho, I hope this chapter being EXTRA long makes up for it. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

_..._

_Mama used to warn me_

_To beware those Latin lovers_

_She said I gave my heart too soon_

_And that's how I became your mother_

Quinn smiles at the irony of the song that just happens to be blasting forth from her IPod. As the shower water washes over her, she thinks about her own Latin lover and can completely sympathize with Xtina. It had been three days since her emotional break down with Santana. Neither woman had made a move to discuss it any further, but the pressure of it weighs heavy on every interaction they have with each other. While Santana is dying to decipher what it all means, Quinn is content not discussing it at all. The sheer magnitude of what putting a voice to all those feelings could do scares the hell out of her. Instead she tries to do what she knows how to do best, using sex as a means to deal. A plan that would be working swimmingly if Santana was rising to the bait. The younger woman had pretty much put a kibosh on the physical side of their relationship and it was driving Quinn crazy.

She has her back turned, but can feel Santana's presences as soon as she enters the room none the less. Santana clears her throat to get Quinn's attention. Quinn turns slightly and smiles.

"So this is what you're doing instead of making me breakfast?" Santana asks.

Quinn glances over her shoulder and giggles at Santana's mock look of anger. She's a little sweaty and her hair is a bit disheveled, clearly just finishing her morning workout. It's one of Quinn's favorite looks on Santana and she can feel her hormones starting to stir.

"I didn't know it was my job to make sure that you eat on a regular," Quinn answers.

The way she says '_eat_' has Santana raising a brow, fighting back the '_wanky_' that's on the tip of her tongue. Quinn watches the way the other woman's eyes travel her naked body. She's hoping Santana's self imposed sex ban is about to fall by the wayside. Quinn turns to rinse out her hair, still jamming along to the music. She makes sure to put a little extra sway to her hips, intending to entice Santana in.

Santana continues to watch Quinn, her amusement showing on her lips. She'd be lying if she said that she wasn't aching to join her. She doesn't though, choosing to stay put and just watch. There's so much more at stake and she's more than willing to sacrifice their physical intimacy in order to achieve the ultimate goal. Disappointed, Quinn finishes up and steps out. She does a little dance as she steps into the towel Santana has waiting for her. She secures it around herself before wrapping her arms around Santana's neck. Santana hands travel up Quinn's bare thighs, stopping right at the edge of the towel. Quinn leans in to kiss her, sighing at how good she always seems to taste.

"If you're really that hunger I can whip you up something quickly," Quinn mumbles against her lips.

"Don't. I'd rather take you out."

Quinn freezes at the thought of her and Santana being seen together in a public place and what all the implications might mean.

"San you don't have to go to all that trouble. We can easily enjoy a nice cozy meal here," she suggests.

Santana shakes her head in the negative.

"I want to take you out to celebrate," she says.

"Celebrate?" Quinn asks.

"Yep. As of today our movie is officially back in production. So get dressed. I'm not taking no for an answer," Santana insists.

She releases her hold on Quinn and starts to strip to take a shower of her own. Quinn trudges off to her room begrudgingly, dreading what their venture out might bring.

...

As she expected, the commotion outside of the restaurant is maddening. For once, Quinn wishes Santana would pick a little obscure spot for them to dine. As much as she claims not liking the unwanted attention, Quinn believes Santana does enjoy quite a bit of the pandemonium her success brings.

They step out of Santana's truck, Tank doing his best to keep the paparazzi at bay. Although he can physically shield them, there's no way to protect them from the barrage of comments and questions being strewn at them. The pair does their best to ignore the crowd. Most of the things being said are ludicrous and nonsense at best.

"_**Quinn how does it feel to be just another notch on Santana's bed post?"**_

Santana stops so abruptly that Quinn runs into the back of her. She spins around quickly, searching out the leech who made the statement.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Santana barks.

The man starts to visible shrink under Santana's stare. She inches closer, daring him to back down from the fight she's so eager to give him.

"Oh don't get quiet on me now. You had the balls to say it just a few seconds ago. Be man enough to say that shit to my face," she snarls.

Santana steps even closer, his intimidation growing by the second. Tank is trying, unsuccessfully, to wrangle his boss's temper in. Quinn steps in, forcefully putting herself between the angry woman and her victim.

"Santana," she says calmly.

"Quinn this prick is being very disrespectful and clearly doesn't have any home training. So I'm going to do what his mother didn't do and teach him some manners," Santana spits.

"But you're doing exactly what he wants and giving him a headline," Quinn reasons.

"That's because this hijo de la chingada deserves the Lima Heights ass whooping I'm about to give him."

Santana advances on the man once again. A soft, but firm hand on her stomach and the gentle '_Santana_' whispered only loud enough for her to hear cause her to pause. She directs her focus back to Quinn.

"Let it go Santana. Don't allow that jerk to ruin our day."

Santana can instantly feel her fury start to recede. She glares at the man one more time for good measure over Quinn's shoulder before proceeding into the restaurant. They are led to a booth all the way in the back. They are relatively obscured from view and Quinn starts to relax a little. A woman approaches the table, looking more than a little fidgety.

"Hello Miss Lopez, Miss Fabary. I'm Arianna and I'll be your server today," she stammers.

"Please no need to be so formal. We're just Santana and Quinn," Santana says.

"Okay, Quinn and Santana, what can I start you ladies off with?" she asks.

"What would you suggest Arianna?" Santana flirts.

Quinn takes in the woman that's standing at the side of their table. She's young, probably barely twenty one. She's a pretty redhead and looks like she spends an insane amount of time in the gym. She also looks like she's giving Santana the bedroom eyes.

"Well that would depend on what you have a taste for," Arianna replies.

Quinn rolls her eyes at the woman's not so subtle attempt at returning Santana's advances.

"Why don't you surprise me. I'm sure you're an expert at satisfying the customers needs," Santana responds.

"I won't disappoint," she answers.

She the then turns her attention to Quinn.

"And for you?"

"Oh so you do remember that I'm here as well," Quinn says in a deceivingly pleasant tone.

She gives the young lady her order and waits until she's out of ear shot before focusing on her table mate.

"You were flirting with her," Quinn says calmly.

"No I wasn't," Santana says, just as calm.

"Yes you were and I think you were purposely doing it just to get a rise out of me," Quinn says.

"No, I was just being nice. It was obvious that the girl was nervous and I wanted her to understand that you and I are just regular people. I apologize if you felt I was purposely trying to antagonize you, but last I checked, I don't have a reason not to flirt."

And there it was, the elephant that had been quietly lurking in the background made its presence known full force. Santana knows it's a low blow, but her lips started moving before she could really process what was coming out. She watches Quinn's reaction. The guarded woman looks like she has been struck. It only lasts for a moment before the cool facade is back in place, but Santana recognizes it.

"You're right," Quinn agrees.

She takes a sip of her water and starts to scroll through her phone. Santana sighs, knowing that they won't get any further on the matter today.

Their conversation for the remainder of the meal only consists of safe topics. They idly chat about the movie finally being back in production. It turns out that the bomb threat had been a fake. Some disgruntled employee was the one who got the protestors riled up in the first place. When the commotion of the crowd did nothing to shut the lot down, they took it a step further and called in the fake threat. Quinn commented how desperate people will do the most insane things, while Santana grumbled about them losing precious time over nothing.

They talk about Mercedes and her upcoming nuptials. Quinn mentions how she had spoken to her recently and that the first few dates of her tour have been a success. Santana suggests them surprising Mercedes for one of her shows before her tour is up, if they can manage to get the time. Quinn agrees, always willing to support her good friend.

Throughout their meal, Santana is very much aware of the tension that won't seem to abate. She's keen to soothe the discord between them but they're in public and she can't do what she would usually do to calm down her ill tempered blonde. She does however, 'accidentally' initiate contact with her brunch companion whenever possible. It seems to have an adverse effect, Quinn bristling with every subtle touch. Santana is more than a little miffed and wonders if there will ever come a time when she'll be able to freely touch Quinn whenever the desire arises, not matter where they might be.

...

"So what are you doing for Lucy's birthday? I know you have some elaborate Santana Lopez production in the works," Mercedes says.

Santana had called her good friend to see how she was doing. They hadn't really spoken since her barbecue and Santana had missed her. She had gotten a quick account from Quinn, but wanted to hear the details from Mercedes herself. It wasn't long before the conversation slowly drifted to the topic of the blonde that had captured so much of her thoughts.

"Why would you think I would have something planned for Quinn's birthday?" Santana deflects.

Mercedes wants to tell Santana to cut the crap. Quinn had let slip earlier in the week that she was staying with Santana while movie production was shut down. Mercedes was quiet after hearing the news, which she knows was a surprise to Quinn. She was all too aware that Quinn knew she had an opinion on the matter, but for the time being was choosing to keep it to herself. Mercedes also knows that as generous as Santana can be, she's far from the type to just open up her home to someone she's only known a few months. She knows something deeper is going on and that it isn't just one-sided anymore. She also has a strict policy of staying clear of her friends romantic entanglements as much as possible. Especially when it comes to Santana. So instead she goes with a safe, noninvasive response.

"Because I know how you get about birthdays when it comes to the people you care about," Mercedes answers.

Santana is quiet for a moment while she thinks back over every conversation she's had with the blonde, trying to remember if Quinn mentioned when her birthday was.

"San you didn't know her birthday was coming up did you?" Mercedes asks.

"I didn't, it never came up in conversation," she replies.

"I would say I'm surprised that she didn't tell you, but I'm not. It actually sounds exactly like her that she didn't say anything."

"So when is it?" Santana asks.

"In four days."

"Four days!" she exclaims.

"And it's her thirtieth."

"Son of a bitch. Do you have anymore good news to share?"

"Hey don't shoot the messenger. If anything you should be happy that I told you at all."

"Well messenger, I'm going to need your help pulling this together. I have to go. There's no time to dilly dally on the phone with you. I have shit to do. I'll call you and let you know what I need."

Santana abruptly hangs up, mind already in planning mode. There was no other way for Quinn to bring in thirtieth than in a spectacular fashion.

...

_In two days I'm going to be thirty._

Quinn has been awake for awhile now, different variations of that sentence playing over in her head. She sighs as she thinks about the milestone she is approaching. She muses over when the childlike excitement of celebrating one's birth had worn off. For her it was some where around twenty five. She felt like every day that she grew older, was a day closer to her career ending. Another moment closer to the end with nothing worthwhile to show for her time spent so far on this earth. Many would argue that she was too young to be so morbid, but she has had too many brushes with death to not have it always playing some where in the back of her subconscious. She rolls over in the bed of the guest room of Santana's home. Santana. Another point of contention for Quinn. Every since their passive aggressive non-conversation at the restaurant, things had become even more strained between them. Santana hadn't changed in regards to how affectionate she was with Quinn, but Quinn could feel the woman walking on eggshells. It had been Santana's idea for her to resume sleeping in the guest room. They still hadn't had sex and not from a lack of Quinn trying. Santana was trying to give Quinn the space she needed to figure things out, but to her, it kind of felt a little bit like rejection. She remembered how easily she flirted with the girl in the restaurant and how quickly Arianna returned her affections. Her insecurities about Santana's knack for getting easily bored, started to creep to the forefront of her mind. She thinks back to her late night confession to a sleeping Santana and scolds herself for not being brave enough to say them to Santana's face. Unless she stakes her claim, Santana technically has every right to do as she pleases.

There were so many words between them that needed to be, yet still, had gone unspoken. A small twinge of guilt settles over her for not telling Santana about her birthday, something else to add to the list things that she was keeping from her. In Quinn's defense, she knows all the younger woman will do is make a big to-do about it and that was the last thing she wanted. Still and all, she needed to start being a little more forthcoming with Santana.

She kicks back the sheets, determined to start to right some of the wrongs that are plaguing her thoughts. She sends Santana a text to see if she is even home. When she doesn't get a reply after a few minutes, she guesses that a search is in order. As she goes from room to room, she replays the younger woman's demeanor recently. Santana has been exceptionally busy, which isn't anything new because she's always busy, but she is a lot more secretive than usually. Where she had previously been very open about the goings on of her day, lately she would give Quinn a vague answer before rushing off. That only added to Quinn's trepidation. Sure, Santana was still attentive and affectionate, but it is pretty clear that her focus is elsewhere.

Quinn wanders to her favorite room of the house, needing a moment to quiet the fears in her head. She turns the corner and stops when she sees the room is already occupied by a pacing Santana.

"I know. I can't wait to see you either. Is it too early to be telling you I miss you?" Santana smiles into the phone.

She listens for a second before full out laughing, clearly amused by whatever the other person said. Well now Quinn knows why her text went unanswered. As Santana walks and giggles into the phone, she can feel the green-eyed monster scratching at the edges. Who the hell is Santana talking to and why is she so damn happy about it?

Santana continues her pacing, until she turns around and finds Quinn staring at her. Her eyes widen like a dear caught in the headlights.

"Hey I have to go. I'll call you later."

Santana ends the call, closing in on Quinn quickly.

"Hey babe what's up?" she asks.

Santana stalks closer, leaning in to kiss Quinn, but the blonde offers her cheek instead. Santana is immediately put off by the action.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"Nothing." Quinn answers.

"Okay," Santana says slowly.

She eyes Quinn suspiciously.

"I was coming to let you know that my mother has summoned me to New York for the weekend. She said that the invitation was extended to you as well," Quinn says.

"This weekend?"

"Yes," Quinn replies.

"I'm sorry Quinn I just can't get away right now. I have something I'm trying to work out that needs my undivided attention."

"I understand. There's nothing special going on anyway," Quinn says, dejected.

Quinn watches the way a bit of sadness flickers in Santana's eyes.

"I really wish I could come. You know how much I love hanging out with you and your mom. I'm going to miss you while you're gone."

This time Quinn willing accepts the kiss Santana offers. It's soft and warm and Quinn practically melts into it. It almost makes her forget that she was upset about the phone call she had overheard. Almost.

"So what are you going to be doing with yourself while I'm away?" Quinn questions.

"I have something important that I'm putting together. Speaking of, I have an appointment for some of the finishing touches. I'll see you later."

Quinn stews as Santana jets off yet again. Quinn knows that the brunette is hiding something. She just hopes it isn't what she thinks it is.

...

Quinn arrives at La Guardia late Saturday afternoon. Her flight was uneventful, which was unfortunate, because she could have used the distraction. When she awoke that morning, the brunette was already gone. She had nothing more from Santana than a text telling her to have a safe flight and to call when she had landed. Quinn was more than a little disappointed about not being able to tell her goodbye properly. She spent the duration of her trip wonder what, or who, could possibly be demanding so much of Santana's attention. It didn't help that the conversation she overhead kept echoing in her mind.

When she finally retrieved her luggage and made it to the curb, Judy was waiting with a smile on her face and open arms. Quinn steps into her mother's embrace, immediately relaxing.

"It's good to have you here my love," Judy says lovingly.

"You just saw me a few weeks ago mom."

"I know but it's always good to have you around," Judy says.

They get into the back of the waiting town car and it speeds off into traffic. Quinn takes a good look at the woman sitting beside her. Even though she's nowhere near what she used to be, she looks healthier than she has in a long time. Quinn takes in her mother's snazzy attire and speculates at what she has planned for the evening.

"Mom you look awfully nice," Quinn comments.

"Thank you dear. I know you're birthday isn't until tomorrow, but I was hoping that I could take you out to dinner tonight."

"That would be great mom. Do you mind if I stop by my place first to change?" Quinn asks.

"Of course not. The restaurant isn't too far from your penthouse."

They continue to ride in silence. The only noises coming from Judy's phone. Every few minutes or so, it'll chirp out an alert, informing her that she has a message. Quinn watches amusedly as her mother navigates her way through her responses. She remembers when she gave her mother a crash course in texting.

Judy is still engrossed in her phone when they arrive at Quinn's. She plants herself on a sofa while Quinn goes about making herself decent enough to be seen dining at a five star restaurant. She opts for a cute, form fitting, shimmery emerald dress. She smiles at her reflection in the mirror, thinking very much how Santana would appreciate the look on her. As quickly as her smile appears, thoughts of Santana replace it with a frown. After their rainy day, and night, together, Quinn really thought she could envision she and Santana pursuing a relationship. If the last few days have been anything to go by, maybe Quinn had completely misread the situation. She finishes up her hair and makeup, deciding not to let thoughts of the failing attempt at romance to mar her time with her mother.

They arrive at the restaurant with little fanfare. Quinn is grateful that the paparazzi in New York aren't as bloodthirsty as the ones in Los Angeles. They are seated immediately and enjoy a nice meal together. Quinn can't remember the last time she was able to be with Judy like this and was, once again, appreciative of the second chance she had been afforded. Judy pays the bill, after much protest from Quinn, and they are once again seated in the back of the town car.

"Today has really taken a lot out of me. I don't think I'll be able to stay awake long enough to get all the way out of the city," Judy says.

"Just stay at my place," Quinn suggests.

"Are you sure dear?"

"Of course mom. That way I don't have to bring in my birthday alone."

"Alright. Maybe if I'm feeling up to it, I'll make you birthday pancakes in the morning," Judy smiles.

Quinn squeals a little in delight, recalling the special tradition from her childhood. Judy just chuckles at Quinn's enthusiasm.

"Quinn I just need to make a quick stop. You don't mind do you?" Judy asks.

"Of course not."

Judy signals for the driver to stop at a store not to far from Quinn's home. She hops out, promising Quinn that she won't be too long. Quinn picks up her phone, check her social media accounts. Her scrolling is interrupted by the chiming of Judy's phone on the seat next to her. She chances a glance at it and see her mother received a message from Santana.

"_**We're ready**_"

Quinn wonders when Santana has found the time to text her mother when she's barely had anytime for her lately. And what exactly did the text she sent mean. Quinn places the phone back in the seat and awaits her mother's return. She has every intention of asking her mother about the text, but doesn't want it to seem like she was rest of the car ride is spent with Quinn getting angrier and angrier the longer she stews. She has every intention of calling Santana the minute she gets her mom settled to get some answers.

The doorman at Quinn's gives both women a '_hello_' and a polite nod of the head, the elevator ride up is quiet after Judy asks, for the second time, what is the matter. Quinn hastily marches to her door, one of only two occupying this floor. She unlocks it, eager to to get her mother situated. Her haste turns to shook when a large '_Surprise_' is shouted to her. Quinn takes in the scene around her. Underneath a banner and balloons, is a gathering off her closest friends and loved ones. Right in the middle of it all, is standing Santana.

"San," she mumbles, completely caught off guard.

Judy ushers Quinn in, knowing this was the last thing she was expecting.

"Happy Birthday sweetheart. I take it you are thoroughly surprised," Judy whispers.

"Thank you mom," Quinn mumbles.

"Oh don't thank me. This was all Santana's idea," Judy replies.

Quinn glances at her mother for a second, not fulling processing what she just said. Her attention returns to the beautiful woman a few feet away from her, smiling that smile that always turns her in to jelly.

Quinn steps into Santana's space, the younger woman offering her a brief, friendly hug.

"Surprise Q Bear," she murmurs to Quinn, as she releases her. Quinn keeps staring at Santana, still in shock about everything. Mercedes grabs Quinn in a hug and the rest of the guests start to offer their well wishes.

...

"Santana, this is Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel and Rachel Berry. Everyone, this is Santana," Quinn says.

After the initial surprise had worn off, Quinn had quickly transformed into hostess mode. She finally manages a second to introduce Santana to her close friends.

"The infamous Santana Lopez. It's a pleasure," Kurt says.

Santana takes the hand that he offers and shakes it firmly.

"Why do all the people you know that I meet call me that?" she asks.

"It's because you're so interesting. Nobody boring has every been called infamous," Quinn winks.

Rachel pipes up, "Even though it has a negative connotation, I'd take it as a compliment. There are many things people do that can be construed as insulting, but aren't meant that way. For instances, it wasn't necessary for Quinn to introduce me. Of course you already knew who I was, even if not personally. I'm Rachel Berry, Broadway superstar. Yet she did it anyway. You know that reminds me of this one time..."

She starts in on a long drawn out soliloquy. While the group is otherwise distracted, Kurt drags Quinn away out of hearing range.

"So you and Santana Lopez huh," Kurt says.

"I haven't the slightest idea to what you're referring to."

"Of course you don't. That's why your eyes haven't left her the entire time you've been over here. You've been practically eye humping her since you walked in the door," Kurt points out.

Quinn blushes guiltily, unable to refute his claim.

"It's been a while since a woman has had you all up in sorts. Not since, what was her name?" he thinks.

"Genevieve."

"Yes Genevieve," Kurt hums.

Quinn reminisces about the girl who introduced her to her Sapphic inclinations. The French foreign exchange student taught her quite a few things about the language of love.

"It's because of her that I learned to speak French. Fluently."

Kurt chuckles at Quinn's cleaver euphemism.

"Whatever happened to her?" he asks.

"Her visa expired."

"What a shame," he says with a tsk.

Quinn hums in agreement and takes another sip of her drink. Her eyes linger over Santana a few feet away. Her back is to Quinn, watching an animated Rachel talk. Her long dark hair is up in an elegant looking bun. Her tight black top flows effortlessly into a pair of pants that look like they've been painted on. Quinn's fingers tighten around her glass, imagining peeling said pants off of her to discover what's underneath.

"So back to my original statement. You and Santana Lopez."

Quinn looks at her old friend, wondering how much to divulge. She and Kurt weren't nearly as close as she was with Rachel, but he had become quite the confidant over the years. If she ever had a secret that needed keeping, he would be the one to do it. Still and all, she wasn't even really sure what was going on between her and Santana. She decides to play it close to the vest for the time being.

"Why is it a statement and not a question?" Quinn asks.

"Because a blind man could see the heat coming off of you two, but it's okay if you don't want to say anything yet. What's done in the dark always comes to the light."

Quinn doesn't have much time to marinate over Kurt's words. They are soon rejoined by Rachel, Blaine and a very flustered Santana.

"You owe me for leaving me alone with her," Santana leans over to whisper.

"I'm more than willing to pay you back however you see fit."

The tone in Quinn's voice leaves no doubt to Santana how she intends to pay her back. She can practically feel the energy vibrating off of the woman. Santana licks her lips.

"I can't believe you planned me a surprise party San," Quinn continues.

Santana studies Quinn's face, assessing if she's upset or not. What she finds in the other woman's eyes is enough to cause her to turn away and blush.

"So how do you all know each other?" Santana inquires, her attention once more on the group in front of her.

"Quinn and I met in college. We were doing a show at a rundown little theater together," Blaine starts.

"I thought he was completely insufferable and didn't know how I was going to endure an entire two months with him," Quinn adds.

"We ended up being the leads for the play and somehow managed not to kill each other long enough to become friends," Blaine says.

"So then how did she meet you two?" Santana asks.

"Blaine kept coming home going on and on about this gorgeous blonde in his group that was an acting genius and I insisted on meeting her," Kurt explains.

"So I arranged for the three of us to get coffee together," Blaine says.

"Blaine, Rachel and I were attending NYADA at the time. We could scarcely stand to be apart for more than a few hours so she tagged along," Kurt explains.

"Kurt I think you might be exaggerating just a tad. I wasn't that bad," Rachel claims.

"You were," the trio says in unison.

"Anyway, the four of us must have sat in that coffee shop for three hours, just talking and laughing," Kurt says.

"It felt like I had known you guys my entire life," Quinn says.

"I knew from that moment on a lifelong friendship had formed," Blaine adds.

"And the rest, as they say, is history," Rachel finishes.

...

Santana is in a quiet corner, enjoying her sparkling water. She watches the way Quinn moves around the room, engaging in conversation with each of her guests. With the exception of Judy, Mercedes and Quinn's agent, Santana doesn't really know anyone here. She muses how the woman who has taken residence in her heart is still relatively a stranger. Quinn has a whole life that Santana knows nothing about. A past that is still much of a mystery to her. She takes another sip of her drink, still deep in thought. Her ponderings are interrupted by a young girl who she discovers is Quinn's cousin, Kitty. After a less than friendly exchange where Kitty mistakes her for the help, Santana is desperate for a little escape.

She's trying to find an artful way to slip out of her conversation when she feels a flutter in her chest. She looks up to find Quinn's eyes, slowly undressing her from across the room. She swallows, hoping that the heat she's feeling isn't showing on her face. She's finally able to excuse herself and goes to the kitchen to refresh her drink. Not long after, Quinn strolls in, looking like a predator that has cornered its prey. She reaches around Santana, casually sliding a hand into her trouser pocket.

"Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes," Quinn whispers in her ear.

She removes her hand and reaches for an olive. Quinn pops it in her mouth and tosses Santana a salacious smirk before sauntering off. Santana slides her hand in her pocket, curious as to what Quinn had left behind. The unmistakable feel of lace has Santana pretty sure that she's touching Quinn's panties. The flutter she felt a moment ago turns into a full on throb. Santana groans at what Quinn is implying. She sips her sparkling water, fighting the impulse to race to the bathroom, not wanting to so readily give in to Quinn. But who was she fooling? Quinn had been indirectly seducing her most of the party. She swallows back the rest of her drink and leisurely strolls to the little alcove off of the kitchen that holds Quinn's powder room. She knocks three times before entering.

"I was wondering what was taking you so long."

Quinn is perched on the vanity, dress pulled up around her waist, legs open. Santana groans at the sight of Quinn exposed, and by the looks of things, very much ready.

"I've been thinking about you touching me all night. So much so that I thought I was going to have to take matters into my own hands," she purrs.

Quinn gives an example of exactly what she had planned on doing by running her index finger between her legs, gathering her essence as she goes. She beckons Santana closer with the same finger, moaning when Santana envelopes the digit in her mouth. She sucks it clean before leaning into Quinn's mouth, sharing the flavor.

Quinn knew exactly what she was doing. The panties in Santana's pocket. The lingering touches and and sensually whispered words. All of it was to egg Santana on. She knows it's not fair baiting her like this, but after discovering the lengths that Santana had gone to in making her birthday amazing, it took everything in her not to pounce on her all evening. So she pushed the buttons she knew would final get the young woman to take her like she had been aching for.

They kisses roughly, too excited to be gentle. Santana wraps an arm around Quinn to steady the woman as she enters her swiftly. She lets out a whimper, Quinn even wetter than she thought she was. Quinn has to bite her lip to stifle the moan, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the countertop. Santana's free hand travels up from Quinn's waist to the strap of her dress. She gingerly pulls it down, exposing Quinn's breast. She attaches her lips to a nipple, never stopping her strokes. She hungrily laps at the firm flesh underneath her tongue. Quinn's hips rotate forward, getting as much of Santana in her as she possibly can.

"Harder San," Quinn pants out.

She does as requested. Her lips detach from Quinn's nipple with a loud pop. She gathers the hair at the nape of Quinn's neck and gives it a firm tug. Santana kisses the now exposed skin before sinking her teeth in. Quinn gasp at the sensation, dizzy with arousal. Santana completely dominates her, not giving Quinn a moment to keep up. Quinn's throws her arms around Santana's neck, eliminating any of the space between them. Their bodies rock against each other, adding to the delicious friction between Quinn's legs. Santana makes small tight circles with her thumb on Quinn's clit, giving her the extra stimulation she knows she needs. Quinn's sighs are getting louder, and even though there's a fair amount of noise going on, Santana doesn't want to run the risk of them being overheard. She reattaches her mouth to Quinn's, swallowing all the sounds that are spilling out. Santana moans as Quinn kisses her hard, her tongue moving at almost a frenzied pace as Santana's fingers. Quinn peels her lips away, desperate for a breathe, leaning her head against the mirror.

"Ugh baby more. I need more," Quinn begs.

Santana wraps Quinn's legs around her waist, sliding her all the way to the edge of the counter. Quinn's head falls back against the mirror as Santana uses her body's momentum to slide in as far as she can. She adds another finger and slows down, give Quinn a second to adjust. Quinn whimpers, none to pleased with the cease in action. Santana catches on and continues with her pace mercilessly. Quinn's grunts and the rhythmic sound of her banging against the mirror have Santana desperate to make Quinn orgasm. She pushes into Quinn deep, bottoming out, only to pull out and do it again. The moment she does, she feels Quinn start to tighten around her. Santana curls her fingers, seeking out the spot that is guaranteed to make Quinn scream.

"Oh shit, San. Baby. Fuck."

Quinn wraps herself around Santana again, holding on for dear life. It's the only thing anchoring her as she barrels towards the abyss.

"Give it to me baby," Santana hisses.

Quinn cliches, climaxing in glorious satisfaction. Santana keeps stroking her gently, enraptured by the high of being able to dismantle Quinn like that and not ever wanting to stop. She finally relents when Quinn grabs her wrist, signaling she can't take anymore. Quinn opens her eyes to find a lovestruck Santana staring back at her. She gathers up enough strength to lean forward and kiss her.

"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn," Santana murmurs.

Once she has some semblance of feeling back in her legs, Quinn slowly slides off the vanity to clean herself up. Santana washes her hands, the entire time watching Quinn in the mirror. She can't help but chuckle a bit at the fact that she and Quinn just had spontaneous bathroom sex.

"I can't believe you ambushed me like that," Santana smirks.

"Tell me you didn't like it and I'll never do it again," Quinn challenges.

"I said no such thing ma'am."

Having caught her breath, Quinn slinks up to Santana, cupping her from behind.

"Baby," Santana whispers.

Her eyes flutter close as Quinn gives her a gentle squeeze.

"As much as I would love for you to continue with your current train of thought, you have a house full of people that we need to get back to," Santana says.

Quinn relents, but not before running her tongue along the shell of Santana's ear.

"Okay, but only if you promise that we get to continue this later."

Santana gives Quinn a lingering kiss, more than willing to pick this up as soon as their guest are gone. She reaches in her pants and passes Quinn back her panties.

"Here you might need these," she smirks.

...

Santana exits the bathroom first, needing a lot less time to get herself together. She finds a quiet corner to hang in, as far away from Quinn as possible. She is willing to bet if anyone sees the two of them together, they'll undoubtedly know what they've been up to. Quinn checks herself one last time in the mirror. Even though she's touched up her makeup and fixed her hair, she can't get rid of the '_freshly fucked_' glow that's radiating from her. She gives reflection a satisfied wink before leaving the restroom. She's about to round the corner when she comes face to face with Mercedes. She's a little startled by the woman's sudden appearance out of nowhere. Especially after what just transpired behind the door.

"Great party Lucy," Mercedes says.

"Thanks. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," Quinn answers.

Quinn is anxious to get away from Mercedes. The diva has that look in her eyes and Quinn knows the outcome is going to be anything but pleasant for her. She takes a step to go around her friend, but Mercedes blocks her path.

"What's going on with you and Santana?" she asks.

"We're just hanging out. Having fun," Quinn answers nonchalantly.

"Having fun? Really? You know she's the one who orchestrated this party for you right?"

Quinn nods, still not sure how she feels about Santana going to so much trouble for her.

"She's moved you into her house for goodness sake," Mercedes says.

"It's only temporarily."

"Well while you're having fun, she's falling head over heels in love with you," Mercedes seethes.

"Mercedes, she's not"

"She is in love with you Lucy," Mercedes says forcefully

Quinn knows she's telling the truth. She's known it for a while now, but hearing it from someone else's mouth makes it even more real.

"Has she... said something to you?" Quinn asks hesitantly.

"No, but she doesn't have to. I know Santana and this,"

Mercedes motions to the festivities going on behind them.

"Is not something she does for just anyone," Mercedes continues.

Quinn shrugs her shoulders, not sure what she's supposed to say.

"You are the sister I never had and I love you so much, but Santana is very special to me. Don't let your own insecurities about love and relationships cause you to hurt her," Mercedes says pointedly.

She eyes Quinn for a long time. Long enough for the blonde to start to feel uncomfortable and look away. Feeling like she has sufficient made her point, Mercedes leaves to rejoin the party.

...

"You and Lucy have been very touchy feely since Las Vegas," Mercedes says.

Not getting anywhere with Quinn, Mercedes decides to take a different approach. Even though it was against her nature to meddle, something about this whole arrangement didn't sit right with her. She couldn't call herself a good friend if she didn't at least speak on it. Santana averts her eyes and continues to place food on her plate.

"Oh my gosh, y'all did the nasty again didn't you?" Mercedes asks.

Something akin to a blush passes across Santana's face. Mercedes doesn't think she's ever seen Santana so bashful before.

"A lady never kisses and tells," she recovers.

"Good thing I'm not asking a lady, I'm asking you," Mercedes counters.

Santana waits a beat before asking, "When Sam asked you to marry him, why did you say yes?"

"Nice way to avoid the question."

"I'm not trying to. I genuinely want to know," Santana says.

"Umm, because I love him and he loves me," Mercedes answers.

"Well obviously," Santana says sarcastically.

"Then what was the point for the question?"

"That's not what I was trying to ask," Santana says, a little frustrated.

"Spit it out then, I'm not a mind reader."

"How did you know he was it for you? Why are you so sure that he's the one?" Santana pushes.

"I know it sounds cliche, but I just do. You know Sam has been my first in just about everything," Mercedes starts.

"That's why I'm asking. How can you be certain if he's all you really know. You don't have anything to compare him to," Santana interrupts.

"When he and I took a break right before my first tour, I wasn't a complete angel. I dated other guys. Mind you, I never had sex with any of them, but I got a chance to experience things with someone who wasn't Sam."

"You weren't curious to at least see what sex with somebody else was like?" Santana asks incredulously.

"Not in the least. You know how big a deal sex is to me. It's far too intimate for me to treat it cavalierly. Not everyone is you."

Santana winces slight at the shot at her promiscuity.

"Yeah, well my views on sex and intimacy have drastically changed in the last month or so," Santana mumbles.

Her eyes travel across the room and land on Quinn.

"I knew you and Lucy have been doing the nasty!" Mercedes exclaims.

A few heads turn and Santana shushes her so that she'll keep her voice down.

"Why didn't you tell me that you and Lucy have been shacking up?" Mercedes whispers.

"Because I didn't want you to make a bigger deal out of it than it was. She needed somewhere to stay for the time being and I offered."

Mercedes hears what Santana is saying, but more importantly, she hears what she isn't saying. She watches the way Santana is kind of fidgety. This coupled with the previous questions Santana just asked has Mercedes piecing the puzzle together. Her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open.

"Holy shit," she says.

She grasps Santana by the hand and drags her onto Quinn's balcony. It's a clear night and there are actually able to make out some stars in the city sky. Mercedes just regards Santana, confirming that her suspicions are true. Santana continues to squirm, nervous at what turn this conversation is about to take.

"You really are in love with Lucy," Mercedes states more to herself than to Santana.

Santana looks perplexed, she knows she has expressed her feelings for the blonde on more than one occasion to Mercedes.

"Cedes you already know the answer to that."

"Yes but when you said '_love_', I thought you meant more of a deep infatuation type of thing. I didn't know you were serious."

"Mercedes I think, no, I know she's the one. Every time I picture my future, I see her in it. If I can help it, I don't want to spend a day without her by my side."

"Are you sure?" Mercedes asks.

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know. All I know is that I've never felt this way about anyone," Santana splutters.

"Anyone?"

"Anyone," she confirms.

"Wow. San this is big."

"I know," she sighs.

"Does she know?"

"That I'm in love with her, yes. That I can envision little versions of her running around in our future? No."

Mercedes hesitates at the mention of a little Quinn Fabray running around. Santana sees then sadness in the other woman's eyes, but something compels her not to ask about it.

"So what do you plan to do about it?" Mercedes asks.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Why?"

"Because the ball is in her court. I don't want to add any undue anxiety to her life. She has stuff going on with her mom. The movie has been a tad stressful. Not too mention she just broke up with that David creep not too long ago. I'm letting her set the tone and come to me when she's one hundred percent sure."

Mercedes frowns. With this new information just brought to life, the previous conversation with Quinn has her even more troubled.

"Just be careful okay," Mercedes says.

"I don't have anything to worry about. Quinn might be afraid right now, but I know she'd never doing anything to intentionally hurt me," Santana says confidently.

...

"Quinnie I think I'm going to head out honey," Judy says.

The party is starting to wind down. Quinn has already seen a number of her guests out, being sure to thank them for coming.

"Mom you don't have to leave. I already told you that it was okay for you to stay."

"I had no intentions of staying. That was all just a ruse to get you here. Besides, I'm sure you and Santana would appreciate the alone time together to... commemorate the day of your birth."

"Mom!" Quinn blushes.

Judy laughs while pulling her daughter into a tight hug.

"I love you so very much darling," she coos.

She releases Quinn and motions for Santana to come hug her as well. The younger woman eagerly steps into Judy's embrace, placing a kiss on her cheek as they part.

"You two be good to each other," Judy commands.

"Always," Santana smiles.

They spend a few more minutes seeing everyone else out. They make plans to get together with Kurt, Blaine and Rachel the next time they are all in The City. Mercedes also took her leave, explaining that she had a show in Chicago the following evening and needed to catch her plane. Quinn was a little bothered by the less than warm hug she received from her friend when she left, but that was a discussion for another time.

After the last guest has been shown out, Quinn leans against her closed door with and exhales contentedly. She looks around at the mess in her penthouse, remnants of what an amazing time she had. Her lips form a delighted curve as she remembers the reason all of this happened in the first place. She pushes herself off of the door, planning to let Santana know how much she appreciates everything that she has done. She searches the rooms of her place, turning off lights as she goes. She pauses in the doorway of her bedroom, taking in a nearly naked Santana on her bed.

"If I recall correctly, I do believe that you made a promise to pay me back for leaving me with Rachel. Well I'm ready to collect on said promise," Santana says.

Quinn crosses the room, removing her clothes as she goes. She kneels in front of Santana, placing tan legs over her shoulders.

"Then I hope you're well rested, because I plan to repay you until you lose your voice."

...

The blonde was a woman of her word, only stopping her appreciation of Santana due to sheer exhaustion. She had a dreamless sleep, but it was one of the most peaceful she had in a long time. The gentle caresses of Santana's fingers on her collarbone are what stir her from her slumber.

"Hi," Santana whispers.

She's propped up on her arm, half of her body still draped over Quinn's. Her eyes are sparkling and Quinn can see so much affection reflecting back at her.

"Hi," she croaks back.

Santana butterfly kisses each of Quinn's eyelids then her nose before returning to her original position.

"How long have you been up?" Quinn asks.

"Not long. Just watching you sleep think how you are the most beautiful birthday girl I've ever seen."

It's Quinn's turn to lean up a kiss Santana.

"Who told you it was my birthday?" Quinn asks.

"Mercedes. Why didn't you tell me?"

Quinn shrugs her shoulders.

"Quinn," Santana starts.

"Can I ask you something?" Quinn interrupts.

"Of course."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Santana asks.

"The party, everything."

"Because you deserve things like this. You don't nearly know how special you really are," Santana answers.

"San,"

Santana quickly shushes her.

"I'm serious. You deserve all of this and so much more. Besides, I can't take all the credit. Your mom and Mercedes did most of the leg work. I was more of the puppet master."

"And that's what's had you so distracted these last few days," Quinn states.

"Mm hmm"

"Is that why we haven't been having sex?" Quinn probes.

"Its only been like four days."

"It's been seven and you didn't answer the question," Quinn counters.

Santana sighs.

"Let's not talk about that right now. I'd rather give you your gift instead. And before you go telling me that I didn't need to get you anything, I did it because I wanted to. You only turn thirty once. You should have something pretty to remember it by."

Santana quickly hopes out of the bed and goes in to the other room. She returns moments later with a small baby blue box with a white bow. Quinn's eyes widen at the gift, knowing exactly where it came from. Santana's excitement is palpable. She can barely stop herself from bouncing as she impatiently awaits for Quinn to open the box. The blonde's breath hitches, removing the top to see a beautiful charm bracelet inside. She lifts it gently out of the box, bringing it to her eyes to get a better look at the three charms that hang from it. The bracelet itself is white gold. The charms are mostly made up of diamonds, all intricately crafted. Quinn is absolutely speechless and Santana is, once again, nervous if her gesture is welcomed.

"So I only got you three charms for now. I wanted to give you the space to add the things that you wanted," Santana says.

She removes the jewelry from Quinn's hands, anxious to share her reasons why she picked each piece. She tells her that she chose a movie reel, because that is how they met and the little bear because Quinn was her Q Bear. Quinn held her breath when they got to the final item, a heart.

"I got you this, because you have my heart Quinn. I know that you're not ready for anything more and I don't expect a response in return. I just don't want you to have any doubt as to how I feel while you figure everything out. Think of it as a reminder of what's wait for you," she elaborates.

Quinn covers her mouth, so overcome by emotions.

"Will you put it on me?" she manages to squeak out.

Santana fastens it on Quinn's wrist, placing a gentle kiss to it after its done. Her eyes meet Santana's, nothing but love beaming back at her. Just when she thinks they've reached an emotionally plateau long enough to catch her breath, Santana does something to completely knock the wind out of her. She bites back the _'I love you_' screaming to get free, knowing now isn't the time. She's high off of the sex and the romantic gestures and wants to be one thousand percent certain before she commits herself to anything deeper with Santana. Quinn instead wraps her arms around the other woman, embracing her with everything she has.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: This chapter was a struggle. It's pretty much a filler, but a necessary one. I hope it's still enjoyable. Much love to all of those who are still on this ride with me. As always, read, review, follow, favorite and enjoy.**

**...**

Proud. Not a word Quinn Fabray has had the opportunity to use many times in her life, especially in regards to herself. She really hadn't done too many things that she was proud of. Yet that's the only way she could describe the feeling coursing through her as she stands in front of the mirror in the guest bathroom, giving her appearance a final once over. Tonight is the wrap party for the movie. There is a sense of accomplishment that pervades her. It wasn't an easy road, personally or professional, but she was here. She basks in that accomplishment, taking a second to appreciate all the things that culminated in this very moment happening. Some things had gone as expected, while others had been a surprise. She fastens her charm bracelet on her wrist, smiling about the one surprise she was most grateful for. Never in a million years would she have thought that she would fall in love on a movie set. Yet, here she stands in the home of a woman who has run off with her heart like a thief in the night, quickly and without a warning. That was another reason Quinn was proud. She was finally coming to terms with what she was feeling and was willing to admit she was in love. The next step was to summon the courage to convey the sentiment to the object of her affections. She was getting ahead of herself. For tonight, all she had to do was enjoy the moment.

...

The wrap party starts off like any other industry event Quinn has attended. There's music, food, alcohol. People wheeling and dealing, always looking to have a hand in on the next big phenomenon. Quinn spots Santana the minute she walks in. They pose for a few pictures together, but other than that, Quinn choose to keep her at a distance. It's becoming more difficult for her to keep up the ploy that they are just friendly acquaintances, nothing more than co-stars to each other. She knows that if they spend an extended amount of time together, anyone can easily figure out that something more is going on between them. She's not yet willing to let everyone know the true nature of her relationship with Santana.

Santana takes notice to it right away and is trying her best to be respectful of Quinn's desire for some discretion. She tells herself that it's no big deal, that she knows who she is in relation to Quinn, but it in all actuality, that isn't really the case. It's always one step forward, two steps back with her. Santana really hadn't given much thought to it until now. How can she be so deeply in love with someone who can barely acknowledge her unless they're alone? The reality of it hits her hard. So much so that she indulges in a little more champagne than she usually would. Three and a half bottles in and Santana is weepy and hysterical. She corners Quinn on the way back from the bathroom, blubbering on about how she can't stand pretending and that all she has wanted to do all night is to hold her but Quinn doesn't want Santana the way that she wants Quinn. The blonde is more than taken aback by the barrage. She stands silently, not quite knowing how to respond. Her eyes dart around, hoping that no one over hears them. Thankfully Dice shows up and ushers Quinn and a still overwrought Santana to her Escalade. Once inside, Santana falls against Quinn. She's beyond drunk and Quinn doesn't think she's ever seen Santana this far gone before. She holds Santana close, stroking her hair, knowing how it calms her. As Tank takes them home, her heart aches just a little more every time the intoxicated woman in her arms mumbles _'all I want is you_.'

...

Each day since the movie had wrapped brought a more morose version of Santana. You would think with it finally in post production, she would feel a bit of elation about the whole thing. Her mood was on the entirely opposite end of the spectrum. Sure, she's grateful to have a goal of hers coming to fruition, but every step to the movie being completed and released is another step that could possibly take Quinn away from her.

They had discussed a bit about what each would be doing between the movie being finished and them doing the promotional tour together. Quinn had explained that she didn't have anything lined up in L.A., so she would be heading back East.

Santana has been moping around the house ever since. For the most part she's been avoiding Quinn, trying to acclimate herself to being without her. Still, it's nearly impossible to fight the tug Quinn has on her heart strings. The constant push and pull is driving her insane. Her need to be close leads her to the guest room, where Quinn is packing up her things. Santana plops down on the bed with a dramatic sigh.

"Sweet Pea?"

"I want to apologize about last night. That's the reason I really don't like to drink too much. I tend to get a little melodramatic when I do," Santana explains.

Quinn nods at Santana's gross understatement of her emotional state the previous evening. She wonders how much of it the other woman remembers.

"Don't worry about it. It's already forgotten."

Santana continues to watch Quinn pack, fidgeting in her seat.

"Was there something else on your mind?" Quinn asks.

"You don't have to be in such a hurry to leave. You can stay as long as you want," Santana answers.

She really wants to tell her she can stay forever, but now isn't the time for that.

"I need to get back to New York. I want to check on my mom and there's things that need to be done around my place, not to mention a mountain of unfinished business I need to attend to. Besides with the movie done, there really isn't a reason for me to be here anymore."

Santana recoils as if she's been punched in the gut. She stands up abruptly to leave.

"And with that, I'll let you finish packing," she says flatly.

Quinn hops up, internally berating herself for her faux pas.

"Santana that came out all wrong," she says.

"Whatever," Santana says flippantly.

"Santana sit down," Quinn demands.

Santana folds her arms over her chest, still giving Quinn a hard glare, not budging a bit.

"Please," Quinn says softly.

She sits with a similar huff to earlier. Quinn kneels in front of her. She hesitates for a moment before placing her hands on Santana's knees. The physical contact steels Quinn's nerves as much as it melts Santana's icy attitude.

"Santana, I know I haven't been good at verbalizing it, but I don't want you to doubt how I feel about you."

She stares at her fingers as they play against the skin of brown thighs. Everyone of her instincts is telling her to hide. To give some lame reason to placate the fears that have been emanating from deep, dark eyes for days now. She tries to come up with some half truth, but she can't. She can't be anything less than honest with Santana.

"I'm not very good at this, but I want you to know that whatever is happening between you and I isn't ending just because I'm leaving. You are so very special to me and a few thousand miles isn't going to effect that. I could be on the moon and that still wouldn't change how I feel about you."

Santana resist the smile that's twitching to get free due to Quinn's declaration. She desperately wants to believe Quinn, but she hasn't really given her anything concrete to go by. The glimpses she has had of the other woman's feelings have been fleeting at best.

"I just need you to have some faith in me. In us," Quinn pleads.

"Okay," Santana agrees.

Quinn grins before standing again to finish packing.

"Besides, I think the time apart will be good for us, you especially. With me gone you'll finally be able to get back to your life. I know I've been cramping your style. You'll be able to get back to the party life with out having to worry about keeping me occupied," Quinn says.

"I'd gladly give all of that up if it means that you're here with me."

Quinn stops folding the shirt she's holding, not sure how to answer such a open and definitive statement. Does she really mean that much to Santana? Quinn doesn't want to allow herself to believe she can be that important to someone, so she deflects instead.

"Well maybe you can get some work done. I know you haven't been recording much since I've been here at the house. I know you're on a deadline."

"I guess," Santana shrugs.

The rest of the process is finished silently, each lost in her own thoughts. Both women having her own stack of apprehensions to what was to become of them.

...

After a restless sleep for them both, Quinn and Santana stand in the latter's foyer, waiting for Tank to bring the car around. Santana looks at the blonde's luggage around her feet and can feel the seconds slipping away. She decides to go against Quinn's wish for them to say goodbye here instead of at the airport.

"Give me a second to grab my shoes, I'm going with you," Santana says.

Quinn stops her with a gentle tug on her wrist. They had previously discussed it would be better to share a private farewell at the house verses a very public one at LAX. It was met with much consternation on Santana's part. She didn't like it, but she understood and couldn't disagree with Quinn's logic.

"Santana we talked about this already," Quinn says gently.

"I know but it doesn't make this any easier. I don't want you to go."

"Hey this isn't permanent. We'll see each other again before you know it. Besides there's still phones, we can FaceTime."

"I know but this still sucks," Santana grumbles.

Tank comes in to retrieve Quinn's bags, letting her know that he's ready whenever she is. Quinn nods and looks back to Santana. She links hands with Santana, watching how they're fingers intertwine together just so. Neither is ready to say goodbye, but know that it can't be put off any longer. Santana hangs her head low, trying not to become a complete mess over Quinn leaving.

"Santana, I," Quinn stops.

Santana lifts her eyes, finally making contact. It's like the wind is knocked out of Quinn when she's not only the sadness, but the uncertainty there. She wants to give her something to hold on to. Something to let her know she meant every word she said the previous evening.

"I'm really going to miss you," Quinn admits.

It's not what she really wants to say. She hopes that the sentiment behind her words can convey how she really feels. _I love you_. _I need you_. _I adore you. My heart is_ _yours_. The women thus far have had an uncanny knack for being able to discern all the things neither is able to voice. Quinn prays that Santana can hear it.

Santana bits her lip, holding the tears at bay. Quinn can see them none the less. She pulls the younger woman into her, both holding on for dear life. She inhales Santana's scent deeply. She stores it in her memory bank to tide her over until the next time they're together.

"Im going to miss you too, Quinn. So much."

Quinn lets Santana go, but not before placing a soft, delicate kiss on her lips. She hopes it can communicate at least a fraction of what she feels for the woman in front of her.

"This isn't goodbye. Okay?" Quinn reiterates.

"Okay," Santana mumbles.

"I'll see you later Santana."

"I'll see you later Quinn."

Quinn blows her one last kiss before stepping out the door. She quickly hops into the waiting car, feeling the last shreds of her control slip away. As soon as her bottom hits the seat, she leans against the window. The hot tears trail down her face as the palm trees of Malibu pass her by. She's hoping that it isn't too long before she's able to see them again.

...

Quinn unlocks the door to her penthouse and allows Johnny, her doorman, to place her bags down. The last time she was here was for her birthday. What a difference a few weeks can make. She frowns after he leaves, walking around a bit. She wonders when this place turned from her own personal retreat to just four walls that housed her stuff. It's kind of surreal to be in a place that you've lived in for five years, yet it doesn't feel like home anymore. She sighs, knowing that it isn't what or where, but who that makes a house a home. She quickly shakes off the feeling. She and Santana have only been separated for seven hours. If she doesn't get it together, there's no way she'll make it until the next time their together.

She almost calls to let her know that she's home, but opts to send a text instead. If she hears her voice, she might lose her resolve and hop on the first thing back to California. Checking her voicemail, she listens to an urgent one from Danny and calls him back right away. He lets her know that he has some jobs lined up for her. He says that she has a limited amount of time to make a decision and that the scripts are being couriered over right away. While she waits, she takes here stuff to her room, sorting things to launder and what will go to the cleaners. She calls Judy not too long after, letting her know that she's home and that she'll be by soon. She makes a mental list of the things around her place that she wants to catch up on and finds her favorite spot to sit. It's a beautiful summer night in the City. Quinn opens her balcony doors, taking in the view. It was one of the reasons she loved this place. Her stomach growls and she remembers that she hasn't eaten all day. She takes inventory in the kitchen, finding that there's nothing salvageable in her fridge. She mulls over takeout menus, finally deciding on Thai food, and waits for it to be delivered.

Over Pad Thai and a nice glass of Chardonnay, Quinn peruses through the scripts. There is a total of five and they range from movies to television to a stage play. Out of the five, only two really appeal to her. The first is another movie. The second is a pilot for a sitcom. Quinn weighs the pros and cons of each. The film is a guaranteed hit. The latest action star, Biff McIntosh, had already signed on to a multi movie deal. She would play a Bond girl-esque type of role. If it works in her favor, she would have at least a few more movies lined up if she stays with the franchise. Not to mention that back to back hit movies would be great for her career, as well as her checkbook. She could get in, get the movie done, then be free in a few months to do whatever she pleases. It would be a lot of money for a small amount of a time commitment.

Then there's the sitcom. It's only a pilot episode. There's no guarantee that a network will pick it up. Even if it is picked up, the average viewer is so fickle who knows how much longevity it will have. The premise of the show is good though and with the right cast, the possibilities are limitless. Not to mention it's being shot in Burbank. That would mean her being in California possibly long term. The idea of working and being that close to Santana appeals to her greatly. There's so much to take in to consideration.

She lets out a frustrated groan. There's no way anything is going to be decided tonight. She finishes another glass of wine before putting everything away. She takes a long hot shower and curls underneath her covers. She squirms for a while, not used to sleeping in her bed, or alone, for that matter. After twenty minutes of being no where closer to slumber, she checks the clock on her bedside table. It's still early on the West Coast. Quinn picks up her phone, dialing the number that she knows by heart. It rings a few times before going to voicemail.

"Hi San, it's me. Just wanted to hear your voice before I went to bed and to let you know that I,"

Quinn's voice cracks a little. She's in disbelief that she's getting this choked up from leaving a voice message.

"I'm thinking about you and I hope to talk to you soon. Good night."

...

Their game of phone tag turns out to be a continuous one. Both are finding it hard to find a substantial amount of time to talk and the time difference certainly isn't helping. Text messages can only do so much. Words on a screen can't always convey the emotions behind them like an actual conversation can.

Santana dives deep into getting her album done to combat her loneliness. She's hardly satisfied with the concessions she has to make, but it's better than the alternative. She spends the majority of her time writing or working out the kinks on some of the songs she's already recorded. The nonstop pace keeps her occupied enough that she only thinks about Quinn for most of the day instead of all of it. It helps to distract her, but it still doesn't take away the dull ache that has taken up residence in her chest. That is what leads her to her favorite corner of the studio. She's in the booth, tinkering away at the piano. She has been working on something the last few days, but can't quite get it right. It feels foggy in her mind, but the stillness of the room is helping to make it a little clearer. She presses her fingers to the keys, a soft melody playing out.

_There will never come a day_

_You'll ever hear me say_

_That I want and need to be without you_

_I want to give my all_

_Baby just hold me_

_Simply control me_

_Cause you're arms, they keep away the lonelies_

_When I look into your eyes_

_Then I realize_

_That all I need is you in my life_

_All I need is you in my life_

Santana stops to make a couple notations on her pad. She takes a second to catch her breath, the jumble of feelings slowly starting to unravel.

_Cause I never felt this way about lovin_

_Never felt so good_

_Never felt this way about lovin_

_It feels so good_

The emotions seep out with each stroke of the keys. Santana is shaking slightly, tears slipping out of her closed eyes, but she doesn't stop.

_How it takes away my breath_

_Starts pounding in my chest_

_Makes me weak when I think about you_

_Makes me want to give my all_

_Life wouldn't mean a thing_

_Not a happy song to sing_

_Just emptiness if I had to live without you_

Her heart aches, but not because she is in pain, but because it feels so full. She knows Quinn loves her, even if she can't say the words. She can hear it in her voice. She can see it in her eyes. No matter how hard the blonde tries to hide it, they love radiates off of her.

_Cause I never felt this way about lovin_

_Never felt so good_

_Never felt this way about lovin_

_And it feels so good_

Santana powers through the end of the song, pouring all she has into it. When she's done she lays her forehead on the surface of the instrument. The catharsis of the moment has her a bit unsteady.

"Wow."

Santana cranes her head around to find Noah at the sound board, slowing clapping his hands. She tries to discretely dry her face before heading out to meet him.

"Santana that was amazing," he says.

Santana just shrugs her shoulders.

"Thanks. The label will never let me release it though," she says glumly.

They're both quiet, at a lost at what to say. Neither has ever had the type of friendship where they talked much about feelings and it was painfully obvious that song came from a deep emotional place.

"Noah I've been thinking about something lately and wanted to run it by you."

"Shit you called me Noah. I know it's serious. What's on you're mind?" he asks.

"What do you think about me starting my own record label?"

"It would be a lot of damn work for me, that's what I think," he answers.

"I know that, but is it feasible? Not any time soon, but maybe in the not so distant future."

"Yes it's not entirely impossible. Can I ask what brought this on?" Puck inquires.

"Tired of prostituting myself. I want, no, I deserve better and I don't want to settle any longer."

"Alright. I'll look into some things and get back to you," he assures.

"Thanks."

"So I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Noah starts.

"What is it Puckerman?"

"But the label is pushing the the release date if your album back."

Santana stands abruptly, ready to go off. Noah flinches, preparing for her reaction.

"What the hell!" she yells.

"They claim that you have too much going on and aren't focused. They want a quality product and that isn't going to happen until all the stuff with the movie is done and over. So they've decided to move your release date to the fall. "

"Fuck!" Santana screeches.

This is the last thing she wants to deal with right now.

"I'm sorry," Noah apologizes.

"It's not your fault. But do me a favor. Make that looking into things happen sooner rather than later."

...

It has been a few weeks since the pair has parted ways. Santana is fearful that she'll be '_out of sight, out if mind_' in regards to Quinn, but the blonde has been putting in a valiant effort to assure Santana that she isn't going anywhere. She's also getting a lot better at being more forthcoming with her feelings. She'll text Santana, telling her how something she saw or heard made Quinn think of her. She makes it a point to call every night, even if the only speak for five minutes, claiming that Santana's voice is the last that she wants to hear before drifting off to sleep. It's working wonders to put the other woman at ease, finally feeling like they're making some headway.

With Quinn's new found boldness has come a sense of certainty that she hasn't had thus far. She feels secure in cage direction she's geading for the most part, but is still in need of a sounding board. She has invited Rachel over, longing to have some quality time with her friend. Her play having a couple of dark days gives the two a chance to catch up. They sit around Quinn's living room, drinking wine and Rachel explaining how this show is so different than any she has ever done. Quinn is only half way engaged, her attention very much on her phone at the moment.

_**This meeting is so tedious I want to poke my eyes out.**_

A text from Santana.

_Aww poor baby you'll be ok._

**_You should save me from my boredom and play a game?_**

_Ok._

_**What are you wearing**_

Quinn lets out a giggle before typing out her response. Rachel watches her friend, tickled pink by how giddy she is over a few messages.

"It's Santana, isn't it?" Rachel ask.

Quinn blushes a little before taking a sip from her glass. She gives a subtle nod, before checking her phone again. Whatever Santana texts back is enough to cause Quinn to turn beet red. Rachel laughs out loud and Quinn attempts to give her best scathing looking. This only cause Rachel to laugh even more.

"You know it's hard to be intimidating while your face looks like a cherry tomato," Rachel teases.

Quinn tosses her phone to the side and sticks her tongue out at her friend.

"Quinn I don't think I've ever seen you like this before. You are positively radiant. Why didn't you tell me that you and Santana were so serious?"

"Because we're not really serious. It's not like we're together or anything. We're still kind of just hanging out and seeing where it goes," Quinn replies.

Rachel scoffs. There's no way the two are just '_hanging_ _out_' after what she just witnessed.

"Well she does have a reputation as being a bit of a philanderer. I'm not surprised that she's dragging her feet in regards to making a commitment to you."

"It's not her, it's me," Quinn supplies.

Rachel nods, but doesn't say anything immediately. She's aware of her friend's tendency to self sabotage. She takes in Quinn's demeanor and pries a little more.

"I don't really know her that well, but from our brief interaction, she seems like a really nice person," Rachel says.

"She is that and so much more. Any woman would be lucky to have her," Quinn agrees.

"So."

Quinn can see her friend struggling to make sense of what she's hearing. Quinn can barely make sense of it herself most of the time, let alone explain it to someone else.

"I'm kind of at a lost when it comes to her. She's all grand gestures and big declaration and I've never really had those things before. I don't know how to reciprocate that," Quinn says.

Rachel takes a moment to think, wanting to word what she has to say correctly.

"Quinn, I'm no expert in how things between two women work, but if that's the only thing keeping you from her, than I'm sure its something that can be easily rectified. I can certainly offer you romantic advice if that's what you need," Rachel offers.

"But it's not just the grand gestures, it's her everything. Like how she always thanks me when I cook her a meal. Or how she always asks me about my day, and listens, no matter how boring it was. Or the adorable relationship that has formed between her and my mother. How anything that matters to me is important to her. She looks at me like I'm the most beautiful woman she's ever seen. She's so thoughtful and selfless and I don't think I've ever been treated with so much care and concern in my entire life and I don't know how to even begin to show her the same thing."

"You could just be you. I have it on good authority that Quinn is pretty awesome," Rachel says.

"But Rachel she wants us to be together. Like girlfriends in a monogamous relationship together."

"Quinn forgive me if I'm missing the point, but you have a beautiful, successful woman who is crazy about you and wants nothing more than to be with you. I'm having trouble seeing what the problem is. "

"Rachel do you know what it we be like for me, someone who's never had a public relationship, to not only announce that I'm dating someone, but I'm dating a woman. Oh, and it's not just any woman, she just happens to be Santana Lopez. The media would have a field day. Not to mention what it might do to my career."

"All that might be well and true, but who says you have to make some big announcement about who you're doing the naked Tango with."

"The naked Tango?" Quinn interrupts.

"Focus Quinn, I'm trying to be of some assistance."

"I'm sorry. Please carry on."

"As I was saying, I think instead of worrying so much about everyone else's stance on the matter, instead maybe you should place your focus on the only two opinions that matter. Santana sounds like she's pretty amazing. Don't you think she's worth putting yourself on the line for?"

Much to Quinn's chagrin, Rachel is absolutely right. Wasn't her mother just saying that the biggest risks usually have the best payoff. Not to mention Santana is constantly going out on a limb emotionally, not sure how Quinn will react. Yet she willing takes the plunge anyway. It's time for Quinn to match her effort.

"So I got a couple of offers I'm considering," Quinn says, done with the current topic of discussion for the moment.

"Really? Any top contenders?" Rachel asks.

"Yes. Another movie and a sitcom. Both being shot in California. I haven't made a definite choice yet, but I'm leaning in a certain direction."

"California you say? Hmm. Interesting," Rachel muses.

Quinn gives her a look. Rachel raises her hands in surrender.

"All I'm saying is that I finding it quite fortuitous that both of your next professional opportunities just so happen to be in California. Has to be fate that all roads seem to lead to Santana."

...

Long after Rachel has gone home, Quinn sits in the same spot, fiddling with her phone. She knows what she needs to do, but the doubt that always nags at her is slowly creeping in. It's almost crippling, but she's not going to have it effect her life any longer. She replays the message she's going to leave over in her head a few times. Satisfied that she's gotten it right, Quinn finds the name she's looking for, swiping right to initiate the call.

"Hello," Santana answers a few rings later.

"Hey San," she says surprised.

She wasn't really expecting to talk to Santana directly.

"Give me a second, let me get somewhere quiet," Santana says.

Quinn can hear the background noise dim, Santana clearly having left the room.

"What's up sweetheart?"

"I can call you back if your busy," Quinn offers.

"I'm never to busy for you."

Quinn takes a deep breath, fingertips tracing over her bracelet.

"I have something I need to say to you and I don't need yofeu to say anything. I just need you to listen," Quinn rushes out.

"Okay."

"I want to start by telling you that I miss you. I miss you more than I think that I've ever missed anyone in my entire life. And I know that's sounds crazy because we've only been apart a few weeks and we've only know each other a few months, but it's the truth. Knowing how true that is made me realize how much you've become a part of my life. Not only just that, but that fact that your an important part life. I wanted to tell you that I want the things that you want. I know this isn't anything official but I needed you to know that. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. So I'll talk to you later?" Quinn asks.

"Yes."

There's a pause over the line, neither woman quite ready to hang up.

"And Quinn?"

"Yeah."

"I miss you too."


End file.
